Glittering Clouds
by complicatedness
Summary: Domino motion, jump starts when we touch. Written for the DG Forums's 100 Days, 100 Drabbles Challenge - that ended in September 2010.
1. I: New

_Nothing belongs to me._

**I: New**

Well, _this_ was new, not to mention frightening and just _wrong_.

Draco did not welcome the butterflies that fluttered in his stomach whenever she walked into the Great Hall, nor did he enjoy the goosebumps that erupted along his arms when they accidentally (of course) brushed against each other in corridors.

He did not like the way the Weasley girl was always on his mind, nor did he appreciate the fact that she seemed to haunt his dreams, contributing to his sleepless nights.

Draco Malfoy did not know what the hell what happening to him. He wasn't too sure if he _wanted_ to know.

But if Draco Malfoy knew anything, it was this: new is bad.


	2. II: Broken

_Nothing belongs to me._

**II: Broken**

The war left people dead, families broken, hers included.

It was too much, to bear, to handle. So she did what the only thing she could at the time and walked away.

She wasn't surprised to find herself at the top of the Astronomy Tower. Often, she had come here, the past year, sometimes to think or to cry. And sometimes she would just come well, just _because_. It wasn't surprising she would come here while the rest of her family was down in the Great Hall, huddled around Fred's body. What was surprising, however, was the fact that she wasn't alone.

She would recognize that platinum blond head anywhere, seeing that she spent a good quarter of her life at Hogwarts glaring at the back of it.

They didn't speak, but instead both stared out at the dark grounds, at the damage done.

After a while, the sun began to rise. It was then, finally, Malfoy spoke.

"Isn't it beautiful?"

"Yeah," she breathed. And in that instant, the tears Ginny had been holding back, in the Great Hall fell, fell, and she began to weep.

Her sobs were stifled quickly though, by the sudden hand that had captured her own. She returned the pressure gratefully, though unable to fully understand it really.

She supposed it only made sense: after all, broken things could be fixed.


	3. III: Hope

_Nothing belongs to me. _

**III: Hope**

He knew this day would come. What he didn't know was that _that_ day would be today.

She had seen it. And it had scared her, he could tell, by the way she pulled back as if stung by the ebony black mark branded into his forearm.

It was a symbol of his transgressions, his cowardice, and his stupidity. It was the reason why he had resisted and why now he was going to lose her today.

He closed his eyes, trying to banish the look on her face, but they fluttered open at her sudden touch.

She was stroking his arm, gently tracing circles into his arm. Then, in a swift movement, she brought his forearm up to her lips, planting small kisses along the tattoo, her hair tickling his skin.

It was a simple gesture, but because of it, he was assured of her love. He would have no doubts anymore, and this, this gave him hope.


	4. IV: Quills

_Nothing belongs to me._

**IV: Quills**

It was quite infuriating, a bit pathetic too.

The Potions essay in front of Draco was forgotten as his eyes raked over the scene that played out in front of him, merely ten feet away.

The Weasley girl sat there toying with her quill, twirling it in her fingers like a bloody baton, whatever that was.

_Just look at her_, he thought savagely, _with her stupid hair and her stupid face_.

But really when Draco thought about it, her hair wasn't _that_ bad. At least it wasn't orange like her brothers', but instead an alluring ruby red. She _could_ be pretty too, but only just...

Now, she was doing it again. You know, that thing she did with her quill?

Draco watched, transfixed, as she brought the quill to her pink lips, sucking on the end.

For a fleeting second, Draco wished he were a quill.

And—good god! Did he just _groan_, out loud?

Judging by the smirk on Blaise's face, he had.


	5. V: Doorway

_Nothing belongs to me. _

**V: Doorway**

"Well, are you going to lurk in the doorway all night or are you going to fork over those bloody nachos?"

This was not the thank you Draco was expecting from his very pregnant wife, for whom he had just Floo-ed across the Atlantic Ocean in dire search of a Taco Bell.

Biting back the angry retort, waiting, on the tip of his tongue, Draco crossed the threshold and plopped down next to his wife.

"About time! Did you remember the jalapenos?"

"Yes, Gummybear..."

The crazed rant he had rehearsed on the way home was forgotten as he watched her wolf down the cheesy stuff like a starved hyena. Compared to having to witness this, snuggling didn't seem too bad of a reward.

"Hun, did you find the marshmallow creme like I asked?"

"Yes, Gummybear..."

Draco was sure the Healer had said that the cravings would not occur past the second trimester, but he decided not to question his wife.

As annoying as Ginny could be, Draco did not want to have to sleep on the couch again.


	6. VI: Breathless

_Nothing belongs to me._

**VI: Breathless**

Ever since that detention, Draco Malfoy had been fascinated by Ginny Weasley's lips.

It was the way that those lips had spewed angry retorts and insults that caught his attention. Then came the lips themselves.

Whenever he wasn't too busy being repulsed by this sudden interest in the Weasley girl's lips, he found himself fantasizing more and more about them.

And in his defense, they were a rather nice pair of lips, everything a pair of lips should be: plump, juicy, reddish pink, pinkish red (He couldn't make up his mind).

It wasn't long—just a week after the whole craze had begun—until Draco decided he would determine for himself whether the girl's lips were as tasty as they looked. He hoped, watching the said lips move unheard from his position at the Slytherin table during lunch, that this, erm, quest, if you will, would kill the obsession.

It didn't take all of his snake like cunning to devise a plan. Draco would strike at first chance: dinnertime.

It wasn't until he was lurking outside the Great Hall, as everyone ate, when he realized that this might not be as private as he'd hoped.

He didn't have to care, however, because she came out, early and alone, as expected.

Jumping from the shadows, Draco seized the girl by the elbow—

"Malfoy, what the hell—?"

—and pulled her around, pushing her against the wall.

Before she could scream in protest, he had captured her lips in a searing kiss.

Draco could feel her squirm and tremble slightly beneath him. She did not, however, break away.

He made note of this, along with the faint taste of vanilla on her lips, the smell of strawberries in her hair.

Pulling away, somewhat satisfied, Draco was pleased to see that she was speechless, and by the look of it, breathless.


	7. VII: Pain

_Nothing belongs to me. _

**VII: Pain**

Draco watched as his wife kissed their son goodbye.

"Goodbye, Father."

Scorpius would have to settle for a hug. It wasn't a too much of a loss, though. Both felt a kiss would be strange, if not awkward, in this setting.

In their time on the platform, Draco kept his eyes fixed ahead. Despite this precaution, he could still see them, out of the corner of his eye, happy as he couldn't be.

It wasn't until the scarlet train had pulled away, just as Draco and Astoria had turned to leave when he saw her.

She was laughing and just as beautiful (if not more) as she was twenty years ago, wrapped delicately around that wanker Potter.

He realized, with a jolt, that she was one too.

At this point, she looked up, her smile vanishing in the fleeting second that their eyes met.

Then, all he felt was his wife's hand through the familiar darkness as they were squeezed through time and space.

With a pop, their Wiltshire mansion materialized before their eyes.

It was strange, Draco mused later, alone in his study. He had always thought he would be happy to see Ginny again, but then he remembered that she had chosen Potter over him.

And the thought charged through him like physical pain.


	8. VIII: Test

_Nothing belongs to me. _

**VIII: Test**

"Ron's going to kill me!" moaned Ginny, ashen-faced, stumbling out of the Great hall, Luna and Colin behind her, fighting to catch up.

"Ron?" Colin said, incredulously. "What about _Dean_?"

"Oh don't worry—Dean knows all about the dare."

"Dare?" Luna asked curiously as the trio flew up the grand staircase, unsure of their next destination.

"It's a tradition." Ginny explained, panting. "On the night of September first every girl in my dormitory participates in a game of Truth or Dare—

"A muggle game." Colin interjected, at the look on Luna's face.

"And I just _had_ to pick 'Dare'!" said Ginny bitterly. "A _test_ of my courageous Gryffindor spirit!" She could really use a time turner right now.

"So that's why you kissed Draco Malfoy?"

"Yes." groaned Ginny. She sank to the floor in the middle of the Charms corridor, her head in her hands.

"Well, you shouldn't have to worry then!" cried Luna.

"Yeah," Colin added, sitting down next to Ginny and patting her arm. "It was just a dare. It's not like you _wanted_ to kiss that git."

Ginny nodded, smiling weakly. She was anything but relieved.

True, it didn't upset her that Ron and Harry were going to go to Azkaban for murdering Malfoy and then her. Yeah, she had done the dare at breakfast, in front of the entire school, but that didn't worry her. And the Dean thing had been resolved.

No, what was bothering Ginny so much was the fact that Draco Malfoy had kissed her back. And that she had liked it.


	9. IX: Drink

_Nothing belongs to me._

**IX: Drink**

Ginny Weasley could not believe it (was not butter).

When Harry told her they were going out to dinner for their four year anniversary, she had been expecting a proposal, not a break up.

No, she couldn't believe it. And now, she needed a drink.

"You look like you need a drink."

Was it that obvious? _Yes_, Ginny decided, catching sight of her blotchy, runny mascara stained face in the mirror behind the bar, _it was_.

"Can I buy you a drink?"

Ginny looked at Draco Malfoy uncertainly for a moment, but agreed nonetheless.


	10. X: Anger

_Nothing belongs to me_.

**X: Anger**

Astoria Malfoy had never seen her husband look so angry in the entirety of their five year marriage.

It was a miracle Scorpius hadn't been awoken by his father's screams of rage. She would put up silencing charms though, just to be sure.

Astoria's attempts to calm Draco had ended shortly after she received a cut from the vase he had thrown.

If he wanted to destroy his office, _okay_. Fine, then. She didn't care. After all, it could be fixed, just like the vase had been, with a flick of a wand. Any injuries obtained could be healed.

And she didn't blame him one bit for throwing the vase. It probably was the firewhiskey acting. He probably didn't mean to throw it. He probably didn't think it would even hit her…she certainly didn't.

She was wrong about the vase.

Draco had meant to hit her; he was hoping for it, actually. He did regret it, but just a little.

All she did was nag and whine. Couldn't leave him alone for a minute, could she? Thank Merlin, though, she wasn't Pansy.

If his wife had been right about anything, it was about the office.

With or without his wand, Draco had ravaged the place, smashing, kicking, tearing, and punching.

Now, he sat at his desk, wondering where all this blood had come from. His eyes flickered to the smashed family portrait. Ignoring photo Astoria's wails, he turned to the Daily Prophet article that had been the source of his anger.

_Harry Potter and Ginny Weasley, Engaged!_

Draco yearned for the familiar burn of firewhiskey, but even that couldn't distract him from the anguish that now swelled within him.

Tears clouded his vision as he looked down at the photo of the two people he hated the most: the girl he once loved and the boy who had taken her from him.


	11. XI: Dreams

_Nothing belongs to me._

**XI: Dreams**

Sixth year had been the hardest. Draco's days were tense, riddled with fear and desperation, more so, as the year progressed. Surely, he would fail to complete the task bestowed upon him…

At night, Draco sought rest from the worries of his day. It was impossible: he would wake up in the dead of night, drenched in sweat and trembling, having had just witnessed the fate of his family should he fail his mission. It was impossible, until, that is, he began to dream of her.

He always stood in the same place. A great hall greater than the Great Hall, with a domed glass ceiling and blindingly white walls. It was bright, clean, and always nearly empty.

Draco never made note of his appearance other than the fact he always wore robes of emerald.

But what always peaked his interest was the vision waiting at the other end of The Hall.

Sitting in a throne of gold, was a girl, the prettiest girl clad in a long flowing gown, as white as the floor and walls behind her.

He had the faintest feeling that he knew her.

His shoes would make no sound as he walked toward her.

There was something about her that enchanted him. Perhaps it was the way she was draped over the throne, or how she remained perfectly still, smiling; only her hair seemed to be alive, fanned out behind her, in a constant tumult as if it had been caught in a great gush of wind when there was none.

Always, Draco found himself standing in front of her, and each time, he reached out to touch her – her cheek, her lips, her hair – only to find his fingers impeded by an invisible force. It didn't bother him, (He felt content by just getting to watch her.) but he still tried.

After a few nights, he realized who she was. The blood red halo of hair, swimming in the air behind her and the freckles he'd come to memorize practically screamed Weasley. Strangely, it didn't hinder him.

He found his peace with her at night. During the day, he found the actual Ginny prettier, more enthralling. By the end of the year, he wanted her both day and night.

It was really too bad the only way Draco could have Ginny Weasley was in his dreams. But even there, he couldn't touch her.


	12. XII: Puzzle

_Nothing belongs to me._

**XII: Puzzle**

"You've got to come back in!" Harry's warning rang in her ears as though he had said it a second, maybe a minute before.

In reality, it probably had been thirty or forty minutes since.

Ginny laughed in spite of herself.

Harry, Harry, Harry. Didn't he realize she could help? She was practically of age! _Not._

_But_, Ginny thought angrily, honestly! _I'm not some innocent little girl!_

Just this past half hour she had joined the fight with Tonks, Aberforth, Colin, Neville, and Luna (just to name a few), and had even taken down a Death Eater or two (or seven).

She halted in the entrance hall, leaning underneath the marble staircase.

For the first time during the battle, Ginny found herself very much alone. She certainly didn't feel as brave now.

All around her bangs, crashes, screams, and shouts seemed to reverberate. She turned.

And suddenly, there was a great scream of terror. Ginny looked up, and to her horror, she saw a large dark mass, falling from an upper landing, falling fast toward her.

But before she had time to whip out her wand, Ginny was dragged forward by an unknown energy.

Behind her the statue of Barnaby the Bald shattered, and the force of the collision knocked her down.

Ginny's eyes flickered open, meeting a horribly familiar grey. An electric shock coursed through her as she realized the position she was in, and Ginny hastily rolled off Malfoy.

"What the hell is wrong with you, Ginny?" he screamed, leaping to his feet. Malfoy was livid; she had never seen anyone look so angry. "You could have been killed!"

"Oh, sod off." Ginny said weakly. "I can take care of myself."

"Oh, yeah." He scoffed, waving a hand at the ruined statue.

There was a loud crash in the entry hall behind them.

Malfoy opened his mouth to say something, but he changed his mind, and dashed up the staircase.

Shaking a little, Ginny ran past the Great Hall and out into the Hogwarts grounds. If she had not been so preoccupied with the thought of how their bodies had seemed to fit like the pieces of a puzzle, she would have realized that only moments before Malfoy called her by her name.


	13. XIII: Discrepant

_Nothing belongs to me. _

**XIII: Discrepant**

A loud snort of laughter broke the heavy silence in the library.

Ginny stopped giggling, though, at the thought of Madam Pince's reaction to noise. The last thing she needed was the beady eyed woman to swoop down at them. She suppressed a shudder, turning back to her Defensive Theory (ugh) essay.

"Luna…that's ridiculous!"

Ginny had just finished recalling her latest run in with the Amazing Bouncing Ferret when Luna said something that made her belief of Wackspurts seem normal.

"No, really." Luna urged. "Think about it, Ginny. "Because of your discrepancies, it is almost surely guaranteed that you and Draco will get together!"

"Not so loud, Luna!" Ginny hissed, casting a frightened look around the innumerable shelves of books.

"He's the ice and you're the fire. Opposites attract, Ginny!" Luna twirled the quill in her hands, absentmindedly, before adding, "You do have some similarities too, you know."

All this time, Ginny shook her head feverishly.

"It will snow in hell the day I pronounce my love for that bastard."

Luna blinked. "Cornelius Fudge should better pack a snow suit then."

The two dissolved into peals of laughter. Ginny packed away her things, wiping away the tears of mirth in her eyes.

There was no way she would be able to work on that essay now.


	14. XIV: Holiday

_Nothing belongs to me._

**XIV: Holiday**

All the Aurors working at the time had assumed an atomic bomb detonated with the sudden explosion, but in reality, Ginny Weasley was just really angry.

"Calm the hell down, Ginny!"

"Don't tell me to calm the hell down, Potter!"

If she didn't owe this month's rent, Ginny probably would have quit here and now.

Following Harry into the Auror career wasn't the smartest thing she'd ever done, but it paid well.

"You're expecting me to just be okay with this!" she demanded.

"Ginny, Draco is one of the best Aurors on the force." He was right. Apart from Harry, Draco _was_ the best. Who'd've thought that one day the son of a Death Eater would work as a Dark wizard catcher? "And _he's_ perfectly okay with this."

Ginny huffed, stomping around Harry's office. Though Malfoy had long stopped belittling the Weasley name, it didn't improve her opinion of him.

"And you've got no choice. As your superior, I have every right to assign you to whatever case I please." Ginny cursed the day Harry became Head of Department.

"But couldn't I be partners with Ron or something?"

"You _know_ that Draco is the only Auror fluent in Italian, Ginny."

She dropped into the chair in front of Harry's desk. "Oh, all right." she muttered, rubbing her temples. "But do we really have to share a hotel room?"

"Well, you'll be posing as a young married couple on holiday, so I expect, yes, you'll have to."

Ginny needed a drink.

Resigned, she got to her feet and made for the door. "I'll be expecting a raise for this, Potter."

"Fat chance."


	15. XV: Mirror

_Nothing belongs to me._

**XV: Mirror**

Ginny applied some mascara by hand. There were just some things that couldn't be done as effectively with magic.

She stared into the large vanity mirror and admired her handiwork.

"Harry, dear, we're going to be late!"

"Alright, Gummybear!"

Tonight was the night of the Ministry Gala, held in honor of the Auror Department's latest accomplishment.

It had taken just over a decade, but finally with Harry Potter as head of department, the remaining Death Eaters had been incarcerated.

Harry would have to make a speech, and as Mrs. Potter, Ginny was expected to attend the event, like every other festivity that had come before.

They had been fun _at first_, but now…

Ginny wasn't so sure. She liked them, of course, but Harry could be a party pooper sometimes.

She knew he didn't like being the center of attention, and there was nothing wrong with that, but what did he expect being The Man Who Lived?

Did he really think she was happy, stuck hiding in the corner all the time?

Perhaps, she might as well go and get it over with. Luna was watching the boys, like always.

Ginny began to put on lipstick, when, out of the corner of her eye, she though she saw something.

She whipped around: it had been, yes, a flash of light, a bright silver light. A patronus? No. Somehow, it didn't seem likely.

It reminded her of mercury, and for some reason, she thought of ice.

Ginny frowned and continued to stare at the spot where she thought –

"What are you looking at Gummybear?"

"Nothing," Ginny replied, with a feeling of unease.

She wiped the red lipstick smear away.

"C'mon Gin, we're gonna be late…"

With one last look in the mirror, Ginny Potter stood up. Her eyes flickered to the space where she knew she had seen _something_, and without a backward glance, she swept from the room.


	16. XVI: Seeking Peace

_Nothing belongs to me._

**XVI: Seeking Peace**

Draco Malfoy made a mental note to fire somebody as he sauntered into the department.

Everywhere he looked, there were the same cubicles and too familiar offices. This was not in the job description.

"Mr. M-Malfoy!" squeaked a mousy looking wizard, emerging suddenly from behind his cubicle. "I –!"

"Not now, Thomas."

"Timothy, sir, but sir – !"

"Really? Can't you _see_ I'm busy playing messenger because obviously _somebody_ doesn't appreciate their job enough to actually do it? And if perhaps _you_ did, you'd – ."

"I understand completely, sir!" gasped the small wizard, scurrying back to his cubicle.

Delivering messages was not something any respectable owner of any company he knew would be doing. He would have to do away with this paid vacation.

Draco growled, just hoping he could find this Weasley girl's office before anyone else saw him.

And just as he expressed this desire, he found it: an average sized office, near the end of the hall.

He didn't knock (Draco scoffed at the idea.) and instead pushed the door open.

"Weasley, the Armenian president had just requested that you owl him the latest Thunderstruck models." He looked up.

"What the _hell_ do you think you're doing Weasley?"

She sat, Indian style, on top of her desk, her pumps retired on the floor. Her hair cascaded down her back in dark red waves, bun forgotten. Her eyes were closed, and she had her arms raised above her head in a weird sort of salute.

"Seeking peace." she breathed, her eyes still very much closed.

Draco didn't know whether to laugh or to back away slowly. He cleared his throat, summoning several scrolls of parchment. "I suggest that if you value your job here, you'd 'seek peace' during your break. Now get to work."


	17. XVII: Questioning

_Nothing belongs to me. _

**XVII: Questioning**

The two men sat facing each other, at their own separate ends of the table.

The younger of the two fidgeted in his seat. He wanted nothing more than to run away. This probably explained why he refused to meet the older man's eyes.

They both knew why he was here.

The tension in the room was almost unbearable, but that was understandable.

They weren't exactly the best of friends. In fact, there was only one thing that they had in common: their love for one Ginny Weasley. It was this very thing, actually, that had brought them together. It wouldn't be long now.

The older man broke the silence. "So, Draco…" He looked pained for a brief second. "Do you love my daughter much?"

"Yes – sir, Mr. Weasley s-sir."

There was a pregnant pause. Then –

"How much?"

Draco gulped, trying to still his quivering hands.

The interrogation had begun.


	18. XVIII: Red

_Nothing belongs to me. _

**XVIII: Red**

It was common knowledge that the third year Gryffindors and Ravenclaws had Charms together after lunch on Wednesdays. So it was only natural that Ginny, Colin, and Luna would walk there together.

It was also well known fact that fourth year Slytherins made their way, too, to the third floor for class.

There was no reason as to suggest that these groups did not interact. In fact, it was quite the opposite.

One probably would not count glaring into a general direction and looking sour, though, as _interaction_, but there were handfuls of fourth years that had made it a living to torment the underclassmen.

Namely, one Draco Malfoy.

He and his cronies, Scab and Boil, always left lunch early on Wednesdays. They would wait on the upper landings where they would apprehend their chosen victim(s).

Ginny Weasley had done such a good job ignoring them each week that she didn't need Luna and Colin to hold her back every time he had a go at her family.

"Some things in life are just not worth it." Luna had always said.

But it would be different this Wednesday.

The trio had been ascending the last staircase when one of Malfoy's jeers floated down to them.

"Oi! Orange!"

Ginny glanced up to see his sneering face perched at the top of the flight of stops.

"How's the weather down there with the Mudbloods?" Malfoy nodded at Colin.

There were noises of outrage all around them at his last words.

Without thinking, Ginny tore up the stairs, halting just inches from the boy.

"No, Ginny, no!"

It seemed the throng of students proceeding to class had frozen to watch the exchange that followed.

"_Weasley_."

She didn't love the emphasis.

"Tell me, Malfoy." Ginny snarled, placing her hand on her hips with a look of pure fury, not unlike her mother's. "Does my hair _look_ orange to you?"

He didn't speak, his eyes grazing the blood _red_ halo blazing around her head.

It was gorgeous, yes; they both knew it. The same, however, could not be said about her brothers.

For the first (but certainly not last) time in her life, Ginny Weasley rendered Draco Malfoy speechless.

"If you're going to insult me, _Malfoy_, the very least you could do is learn your colors."

And on that note, Ginny stalked off to class, Colin and Luna hurrying in her wake.


	19. XIX: Happiness

_Nothing belongs to me._

**XIX: Happiness**

What had been the greatest day of Bill and Fleur's life was, to this very day, their worst.

Sometimes he woke up in the dead of the night drenched in cold sweat and trembling, the image of her sad, sad eyes, branded on the inside of his eyelids.

Draco would then go outside and stand on the balcony, trying so hard to forget what he could.

_"What the hell do you think you're doing?" He cast a nervous glance around the clearing, peering into the trees surrounding them. He didn't want to think of all the trouble she went through to get to this point._

_"I had to see you." Ginny breathed. She looked a little disheveled but beautiful nonetheless. Her hair was falling out of its elegant up do, and her golden dress had been ripped._

_They could hear screams in the distance. He just hoped the wedding guests got away in time._

_"Ginny I'm supposed to be _back there_, torturing your family for Potter's whereabouts. What does that tell you about _me_? About _us_?"_

_"Don't say that, Draco!" she said. "You're not like that. You're not like _them_."_

_"And how would you know then, Ginny?" he asked her sharply._

_"Harry said – "_

_"Potter was wrong! I would have killed him, if Snape hadn't arrived._

_"I don't believe that." Ginny replied, calmly staring up into his face._

_"Then what do you believe?" Draco snapped. "That I could _change_? That we could _be together_?"_

_"Yes! Draco, I love you –!"_

_"And you thought I reciprocated these feelings?" he continued. Immediately, Draco regretted these words._

_"Of course!"_

_"I don't! I don't _care _about you Ginny!" The statement burned in his throat, and he knew this was a lie. It seemed that she did too._

_"Then say it."_

_Behind them, the screaming had stopped, but not for too long._

_"I don't love you."_

_"Look into my eyes when you say it."_

_He glanced up, startled to see them full of tears. Ginny never cried._

_"I don't love you." he repeated, desperately wishing he could take it all back._

His wife's question startled him from his trance.

"Why did you do it?" Astoria's voice was barely audible over the crickets' requiem.

"Mother always said that if you love something, you'd let it go."

"So you sacrificed your happiness in order to protect her?"

Draco Malfoy hadn't forgiven himself since.


	20. XX: Family

_Nothing belongs to me._

**XX: Family**

There was an unmistakable buzz of excitement among the guests. Everyone seemed to be having a good time.

Ginny wasn't. She stood quite alone (Harry off somewhere, doing something important) staring off into the space in front of her, champagne flute forgotten in her hand.

It was the same, these events, she was forced to attend. It didn't help at all, the fact that _he_ too was there. Always.

Ginny wondered if she would be happier if she was the one wrapped around him, if it was into her ear he whispered sweet nothings.

It wasn't until the golden robed waiter had appeared at her side that Ginny realized her flute had shattered.

She told herself that she didn't care, that she didn't remember the way he made her feel, that she no longer dreamt of him, and that it didn't hurt to see him.

But these lies never sufficed for too long, and Ginny knew there was no point fighting her desire to know how it might have been different.

There had been a reason she chose to wear the silver dress tonight.

Ginny brushed past him walking towards the back of the room, near the champagne table.

She didn't have to turn around to know that he had followed her.

"It's been a long time."

"Too long." she agreed, addressing the air in front of her.

There was a pause, during which he admired the significant amount of back exposed by her dress. Ginny could feel his gaze.

"Why are you doing this to me, Ginny?" he asked quietly.

"I just needed you to tell me – "

"Tell you what?"

" – How this could've ended…tell me…about our family." Ginny swallowed the lump in her throat. "Tell me about our children."

"Don't make me do this." he mumbled.

"Just, Draco, please."

"_Ginny!_" She turned to see Harry rushing toward her.

"I've been looking all over – what's wrong, dear? Have you been _crying_?"

"No, of course not! I just got – got something in my eye."

"Oh, well, they're expecting me to make my speech now."

"Okay, sweetie…" Ginny forced herself to smile as her husband made his way onstage.

Draco Malfoy had long gone.


	21. XXI: Divorce

_Nothing belongs to me. _

**XXI: Divorce**

"I want a divorce."

"Ginny, you can't be serious." Draco replied.

"I'm dead serious!"

Ginny raised her wand threateningly, but instead of hexing him (like he deserved) she began to supervise as her belongings began packing themselves.

"Where are you going?" Draco cried, his panic growing as he watched his wife shrink her suitcases.

"To Mum and Dad's – don't bother following me!"

"But Ginbug! Ginbug, I'm sorry!" he wailed.

"I don't care! I want a divorce."

"No – !"

"Do you hear me, Draco Scorpius Malfoy? I – want – a – divorce!"

Ginny was petrifying in that moment of rage, and Draco desired nothing more than to crawl into a hole somewhere and die.

Rubbing the spot on his abdomen where his wife had continually jabbed (while articulating her wishes for a divorce), Draco watched as she waddled to their fireplace.

Taking a pinch of powder, Ginny was gone in a flash of green flame.

"Dammit!" Draco screamed. He took out his frustration on the fireplace. Yeah, he regretted this as an excruciating plain shot through his biggest toe.

He needed help. Now. And Blaise would be just the man to give it to him.

Disappearing into the fireplace, just as his wife had done, Draco landed in a nicely decorated, spotless flat.

"Blaise!"

"Good god, Draco, did it ever occur to you that I'd prefer my guests to call first? _Rude_!"

"But it's Ginny. She – "

" – wants a divorce. Yeah, I know. She was here." the man snapped impatiently.

That was fast.

"Well?"

"Well what?"

"Did you manage to convince her otherwise?" demanded Draco.

"No, I didn't try to."

"Why the hell not?"

Blaise sighed. "Draco," he said, in his lecturing voice. It was one Draco knew well. "You _don't_ tell your very pregnant wife that she looks like a whale…"

"Well, she asked! And I couldn't just tell her otherwise!"

Blaise shook his head sadly and steered his best mate back toward the fireplace. "For one of the smartest people I know, Draco, you're such a dumbass."

"I don't appreciate the attitude, Blaise!" Draco huffed, taking some more Floo Powder.

"You're on your own mate." was all Blaise said.

Draco would have to make amends with his wife, plead for redemption, beg for forgiveness, and all that rot, but _later_.

Now, he thought some rocky road ice cream and a nice cry could do him some good.


	22. XXII: Flying

_Nothing belongs to me._

**XXII: Flying**

She was a good flyer. He'd give her that.

If it hadn't been for the fact that she was a Weasley and a girl, at that, she might have been a great flyer.

Draco would never admit though that he had seen her that night. When was it? One, two years ago?

He had been intending to do exactly what she managed to: break into the school's broom shed, and then hit the Quidditch pitch.

Draco could still remember how small he felt, watching her up there soaring around, flying, like some great bird, but more graceful than any bird he'd ever seen.

A deafening roar shocked him out of his reverie.

"Ginny Weasley had caught the snitch! Gryffindors win!"

His eyes combed the field for her, ah, yes. She was there, hovering near the Gryffindor goal posts.

Her broom rose steadily higher, the snitch clutched tightly in her small fist.

The afternoon sun caught the molten ruby that was her hair, creating a blazing aura brighter than any beacon. Her lips turned upward in a small smile.

Draco wondered if someone had turned off the oxygen. What other explanation could there be as to why he couldn't breathe?

He continued to stare, dazed, long after she had sped away. His classmates made no attempts to summon him, and Draco sat there stupidly as the stands emptied.

Of all the emotions, he felt, sitting there, the most familiar it seemed was confusion. Indeed, Draco could not fathom why he felt like, like he was flying, even when his feet had never even left the ground.


	23. XXIII: Drowning

_Nothing belongs to me._

**XXIII: Drowning**

She was drowning, and she knew it. No, not in the Great Lake, but in his eyes, those beautiful stormy grey eyes.

"Is there something on my face, Weasley?" he spat.

Ginny blushed and hurried off to Transfiguration.


	24. XXIV: Bed

_Nothing belongs to me._

**XXIV: Bed**

"Humor me, Blaise."

Draco lay slumped on the sofa in the flat they shared. He desperately wished Theodore was around. _He_ was always fun. It was a shame he wouldn't be home for another week. Ministry business.

Blaise looked up from the novel he'd been reading, pushing the reading glasses further up his nose. "Why?"

"Because I'm booored!"

Blaise shook his head. "Mate, you need to find yourself something to do." There was a pause. "Or _someone_ to do." he added, with a traditional Slytherin smirk.

"Like who?"

"Maybe there's some nice girl in the Department of International Magical Cooperation…"

"Now, Blaise," Draco admonished, "you _know_ I've slept with every unmarried witch in that department."

"Oh yes, how could I forget?" Blaise snapped his book shut. "You _never_ put up any silencing charms."

Draco ignored this last comment. "I need someone, something new, you know, some girl who won't come easy, a challenge…"

"A challenge?" Blaise repeated. "Is that what you want?"

"It would sure beat having to stay at home with you…"

Blaise winced, clutching his chest, "That hurts, Draco."

They sniggered.

"Well, if it's a challenge you seek, then I think I have one for you."

"Go on."

"I challenge thee to…bed Ginny Weasley…"

Draco almost fell off the sofa, snorting with laughter. "You're joking!"

"No, I'm not, actually." Blaise replied seriously. "She's a good looking girl, nice bum…"

Draco thought it over. "Yes, I suppose…I think I'll take you up on that Blaise."

"This should be interesting."


	25. XXV: Balloon

_Nothing belongs to me._

**XXV: Balloon**

Ginny peered through the window.

Even though she was in the kitchen, she too, felt the jittery anticipation that filled the warm tent propped in the garden.

Behind her, Fleur was slipping the tiara into her white golden hair.

Finally, after a long wait, it was time.

Ginny glided down the aisle with Gabrielle, after Fleur, her eyes raking over the assembled group.

Reaching Bill, to whom she winked at, and Fleur, she veered to the left to her determined station. She glanced around the tent again, beaming, before quickly facing the front again.

Apart from the sing-songy voice of the wizard who proceeded over the ceremony, another sound could be heard.

It was music. Ginny couldn't determine where it came from until the ceremony was almost over – the balloons hanging over Bill and Fleur.

She stared at them, gold and silver. The gold was pretty, yes, but there was something about the silver balloons…

They reminded her vaguely of someone. Who, though, she couldn't say.

"…then I declare you bonded for life."

Ginny jumped, clapping as warmth spread to her cheeks. She couldn't explain this, but briefly forgot about it all as the tent around her disappeared and a canopy took its place.

Of all the sights in the wedding reception canopy – from the white lace covered tables to the golden dance floor – the balloons still caught her eye.

She decided then that she rather liked silver.


	26. XXVI: Compressed

_Nothing belongs to me. _

**XXVI: Compressed**

The Astronomy Tower was off limits when there weren't any classes, but it wasn't like Ginny acknowledged this rule. The view was amazing.

Several nights a week, she risked detention and losing house points for the same scenery she could get from her dormitory window and just about any window, at that.

Ginny supposed that there was something magical (pun unintended) about the tower itself.

Luckily, she had never been caught.

However, tonight as she crept through the seventh floor, Ginny encountered every wrongdoer's nightmare: Mrs. Norris.

It seemed that her luck had just run out.

The cat was gone in a flash, and Ginny knew it wouldn't be long until every wrongdoer's _worst_ nightmare arrived. Already she could hear hurried footsteps echoing down the corridor.

I need somewhere to hide! I need somewhere to h –.

Before her eyes, a door materialized, and Ginny wasted no time scrambling inside.

She remembered this room from the year before. What was it? Oh yes, the Room of Requirement. She was extremely grateful to have found it, in these desperate times.

Ginny just wished it had evolved into something other than a broom cupboard. She was a tad bit claustrophobic, and small, cramped places weren't her fancy.

Something grabbed her. If it hadn't been for the hand clamped over her mouth, she would've screamed.

Thinking quickly, Ginny ran her tongue over her captor's palm. He (The manly palm revealed this, but it could easily have been Millicent Bulstrode, too.) released her, and a violent struggle ensued.

In the darkness, Ginny gasped, "Malfoy!" having caught the sight of too familiar grey eyes just as Argus Filch's voice rang out, right outside:

"They'll be around here, my sweet."

The two teenagers froze.

Between staying compressed in a broom cupboard with her foe and Filch, Ginny'd take Filch.

Draco Malfoy, it seemed, had other plans.


	27. XXVII: Reinvigorated

_Nothing belongs to me._

**XXVII: Reinvigorated**

Blaise Zabini found himself in quite the dilemma.

It had all started when he had tried to…erm…reinvigorate his best mate. The reason for this, uh, process was, to put it simply, Astoria Greengrass. In his mind, the blue eyed beauty had ruined everything.

Blaise never thought he would see the day when Draco Malfoy would fall head over heels in love with someone, but that day had come, less than a year ago.

Draco and Astoria's love for each other had been sickening. There were hugs and kisses and snuggling. _Snuggling!_ Blaise had to fight to keep his lunch stomached at the very thought of it. And the way Draco talked about her! Blaise thought it was a love potion at work, but he decided not to bring it up.

He was seriously considering moving – just packing up and getting the hell out of there – when it ended.

Astoria ran off with Theodore Nott, taking a chunk of Draco's money with her. The Draco Malfoy she left behind was far worse than any lovesick puppy.

There was a reason Blaise didn't date. Women could be scary things, and now, it seemed he was living with one.

Draco never left the flat, yet alone his room, and sometimes Blaise could hear him sobbing into the Egyptian cotton sheets his mother had sent him. It wasn't until Draco cornered him, asking for a hug, when Blaise decided to take matters into his own hands…and to the _Daily Prophet_ personal ads.

That was two weeks ago. Since then, owls from desperate witches (and wizards) had arrived by the hundreds. In the end, Blaise just reached into the mountain of unopened replies and fished out the first letter his fingers closed upon.

The real task, however, had been convincing Draco to go on the date. Blaise had decided not to mention that he would be going with Luna Lovegood.

He knew only too well what would go down in the restaurant he'd reserved for Saturday night.

And if he thought that this was a dilemma, there would be nothing to prepare him for the insane twist of events that was yet to come.


	28. XXVIII: Spilt Milk

_Nothing belongs to me._

**XXVIII: Spilt Milk**

Draco woke up to the absence of Ginny's warm body next to his own. Wondering where she could have gone, he shuffled sleepily into the kitchen.

Draco froze, though, at the sight of a small figure curled up on the floor.

"Ginny?" he whispered.

She sat with her arms wrapped tightly around her knees, weeping softly.

"_Ginny_?" He had never seen her cry before. "_What's wrong_?"

She continued to sob and automatically, Draco took a step forward, his left foot finding something cold and wet. Upon further investigation, he learned that it was milk.

"Why are you crying?"

"I spilled my m-milk."

"Is that all?" Draco didn't know whether he should laugh or not.

Ginny nodded, tears trailing down her face.

"Well, love. It's just _milk_." He waved his wand, and the mess vanished. "See? It can be cleaned up…"

Obviously, he had said something wrong because Ginny started to cry harder than ever. Draco sat down next to her.

"It's no use crying over spilt milk…unless…there's something else wrong…Are you hurt? Are you sick?" Draco pressed a hand to Ginny's forehead.

She gave a tearful laugh. "No, it's just – I've b-been feeling bloated and having these a-awful mood swings. I guess I must PMSing like Hermione said…"

"PMS?" Draco repeated, feeling a bit panicked, "Is that like spattergroit or something?"

"Noo…" Ginny laughed again. "PMS is a collection of physical, psychological, and emotional symptoms related to a woman's mentrual cycle."

He blanched, scrambling to his feet. "Oh."

He really wished he hadn't asked.


	29. XXIX: Contempt

_Nothing belongs to me. _

**XXIX: Contempt**

After the series of events that occurred on the Astronomy Tower and in the Malfoy Manor, Harry Potter had begun to think that Draco Malfoy wasn't _that_ bad. Then, of course, came the Room of Requirement thing followed by _this_. Now, Harry held nothing but contempt for the guy.

He didn't blame Ginny in the slightest. Harry knew only too well the Slytherin's way of mind. It seemed that for once the charmer had been charmed by the snake.

Despite Harry's confidence that this thing wouldn't last, he couldn't help but share his thoughts with Ginny. She refused to listen to any of his theories involving any sort of love or lust potion, and when Ron came home one day, his face covered in the undesirable effects of a Bat Bogey Hex, Harry was discouraged from trying again.

He knew, though, that in time Ginny would come back to him, and after a thorough examination at St. Mungo's, he would be prepared to take her back again.

So, naturally, on the crisp September morning Harry received the owl from Ginny, he expected the best of news. But upon opening the sheaf of parchment, Harry toppled backwards off his chair and onto the floor, where he lay in a dead faint.

From his desk, these words shone on silver parchment, quilled in green ink:

_You have been cordially invited to attend the union of_

_Draco Scorpius Malfoy and Ginevra Molly Weasley_

_in marriage_

_at one o'clock in the afternoon_

_on the nineteenth of November_


	30. XXX: Acceptance

_Nothing belongs to me._

**XXX: Acceptance**

The soft squeeze of Ginny's hand did nothing to ease the knot of fear twisting painfully in the pit of his stomach.

Draco felt her pulling him along as they stepped past the lopsided sign stuck in the ground. In the distance, they could see the crooked house, with its red roof and multiple chimneys.

"I don't really think this is a good idea." he said, unable to keep the note of panic out of his voice.

"Rubbish!" replied Ginny, only half listening as she wrenched the front door open.

They entered the kitchen, which, Draco knew, had been buzzing with chatter only moments before, but at the sight of the two arrivals, the Weasleys had frozen.

He glanced nervously around at the red haired family seated around the scrubbed wooden table, trying to read their expressions.

Fear. Disbelief. Anger. Outrage. Grief.

It was painful – the silence – and forever lingering. No one seemed to be breathing.

Draco desperately wished he could just fade away.

Then, there was the unmistakable sound of a chair being pushed back.

Molly Weasley got to her feet, pulling him into a rib-cracking hug. Draco returned the embrace appreciatively, and when he finally released her, he was surprised to see the ghost of the same something etched on every face.

Acceptance.


	31. XXXI: City

_Nothing belongs to me. _

**XXXI: City**

There were many reasons why she loved the city. It had been new and scary, but all the same exciting. Also, it was the last place anyone would think to find her. This way, no one would have to know what she'd done.

Living in Muggle London, however, was no easy feat. She struggled the first nine months, and despite having taken Muggle Studies in school, there were still loads to learn.

She had found humble work as a waitress. Her employer was a kind man, and her coworkers, the same. They could all tell that she wasn't from around there, but they took her under their wing nonetheless.

Ginny had long since quit the job, but she still visited the old diner occasionally.

She now worked as a secretary in a respectable office building, and for extra money, she walked dogs on weekends. She lived comfortably in a small flat, undisturbed by the Wizarding world.

It had been almost six years since she had touched her wand, yet she kept it, safe in a box hidden in her sock drawer. She hadn't forgotten a single thing either, sometimes whispering spell incantations in her sleep.

Ginny liked to think she lived a quite ordinary life.

But after today, she wouldn't be so sure.

The morning had been perfectly normal. She had woken up, walked the dogs, cooked breakfast, and was just cleaning up when there was a knock on the door. Ginny finished drying the last plate and walked past the children's program on the television. She opened the front door.

Standing before her were five of the very last people she had expected.

"Ginny."

"Bill? Charlie? Percy? George? Ron?"

She gazed at each one of her brothers, fear settling in her stomach with every passing second.

Behind her, a sixth voice rang out, but unlike the others, it belonged to a child.

"Mummy? Who are you talking to?"

A small boy shuffled into view, no older than five years old.

Her brothers looked shocked, staring in disbelief at her son who (they had been quick to notice) was the spitting image of one Draco Malfoy.


	32. XXXII: Blue

_Nothing belongs to me. _

**XXXII: Blue**

"Humor me, Draco."

"You can humor yourself Blaise." Draco was getting nowhere with this essay, and the intense heat in the library was doing nothing to aid his concentration. Slamming his transfiguration book shut, he decided he'd convince Pansy to do it for him. Or better, blackmail some Ravenclaw.

Blaise elbowed him in the ribs.

"Ow! What the devil?" Draco looked towards where Blaise was staring.

Ginny Weasley. He's recognize that red hair, those freckles, and the shabby, secondhand appearance anywhere as belonging to a Weasley, but Draco had no idea how he knew her first name.

She was browsing the shelves in front of them, reaching for a book, just out of her reach.

Inspired, Draco turned to Blaise, whispering. "You asked me to humor you, didn't you?"

Blaise glanced at him interestedly as he pulled out his wand.

_"Adlevo!"_

At first, nothing seemed to happen and then –

"Look!"

– the end of the Weasley girl's skirt began to rise.

The two fifth years snickered as they watched her skirt slowly reveal what lay underneath.

There was a sharp intake of breath, for their victim appeared to realize what was happening. She promptly pushed her skirt back down, but not before they had taken a good look at her knickers.

The girl glowered at them and stormed off, her long hair dancing behind her.

Blaise continued to snigger, but Draco stared at the spot where the girl, this Ginny, had been standing.

He decided that blue looked rather good on her.


	33. XXXIII: Hear No Evil

_Nothing belongs to me._

**XXXIII: Hear No Evil**

_She deserved it_, Draco thought to himself.

Her screams echoed throughout the dungeons. He had never heard anything so horrible in his life.

Draco could imagine the Carrows now, crying with mirth at the sight of her, writhing on the floor in pain.

"She deserved it," he said, aloud, weakly.

Draco Malfoy walked away.


	34. XXXIV: Heartless

_Nothing belongs to me._

**XXXIV: Heartless**

"Why am I here?" Her voice was soft, raspy, as though she hadn't used it in a while.

His eyes never left her. "You know why."

"If I did, I wouldn't've asked!"

Their eyes met for a moment, and she turned away, staring around at the room that had become her home over the last couple of months.

It was a large room, and it would have been grand too if not for its unkempt appearance. The room was dark and smelled of mold and urine, but this didn't stop the young man who always came in to watch the girl trapped inside.

The same girl gave a hollow laugh now, throwing her head back. Her bright red hair had lost its lustrous shine and was now dull, very much like her eyes. "How could you be so heartless, Malfoy?"

"It gets easier with practice."

She narrowed her eyes. "You're a monster! Did you think that by keeping me here that I'd learn to love you?"

"No."

"It would explain why you're always here, in this room." Ginny pushed herself off the bed and onto the floor. "Watching me like a starved wolf." she whispered.

"You're wrong." He replied quietly.

"Yeah, you're right." She tugged at the material of her nightdress. It had been weeks since she had last changed or seen a bath. "I could never love a monster like you."

"I don't care about you, Weasley." snarled Draco, jumping off the stool positioned just feet from her bed. "Or what you think!"

"Liar."

"You're wrong!" he screamed, slamming the door shut after him. "YOU'RE WRONG!"

They both wished that this were true.


	35. XXXV: Light

_Nothing belongs to me. _

**XXXV: Light**

Draco Malfoy hated Ginny Weasley.

He hated, even more, how he wanted her. How he wanted to run his hands through her hair, to taste her lips, to explore every inch of her.

He hated what she did to him. How she was always in his mind and how his eyes always found her during mealtimes. Even in his sleep, there was no escaping her.

And if he hated these things, it was nothing compared to the emotion he felt knowing he couldn't have her.

Oh, how he wanted this madness to end, this yearning to cease, this hunger to be satisfied. And it would be, in time, but not without consequence.

But before that time, Draco found that his feelings for the girl grew with each passing day, both the longing and the anger. Until, finally, he could stand it no more.

He had to act. So he did: seizing her at first chance and dragging her into an unused classroom.

"Let go of me, Malfoy!" The girl screamed as he overpowered her, shoving her backwards against the chalkboard. "Let go of me, Malfoy!" she snarled.

"Not until you say you'll be mine."

He could see her eyes widen in fear, at his menacing tone, the same eyes he wanted to drown in, but she stood her ground.

"I'll die before those words leave my lips." she spat, tearing from his grasp and turning for the door.

"Very well." Draco breathed, pointing his wand at her back.

And it was all over in a flash of green light.


	36. XXXVI: Obvious

_Nothing belongs to me._

**XXXVI: Obvious**

Blaise Zabini was almost certainly screwed – and _not_ in the good way.

It had taken him one's night's sleep, several shots of firewhiskey, and almost all of his Slytherin cunning to devise a plan to ensure Saturday night's success.

He would offer Draco a drink about half an hour before the start of the date. In the said drink, Blaise would slip some Calming Draught. He would then Apparate to the restaurant where he would wait for the Lovegood girl to arrive. After explaining his appearance, he'd lead her to the table, cast Restraining Charms on Draco's seat, and go back and fetch him.

It was a brilliant plan, and Phase One had gone exactly as Blaise hoped.

He was at the restaurant waiting when he met the most unlikely person.

"_Zabini?_"

"_Weasley?_" he said, stunned. She looked gorgeous in a champagne colored dress and matching heels. Her ruby red locks were curled, draped around her shoulders.

"Are you here meeting Luna?"

"Oh no, it's my friend of mine, he's back at the flat…I've just come to – _wait_. How'd _you_ know about the date?"

She looked pained. "That's why I'm here, you see. Luna came down with a bad Nargle infestation an hour ago. And – and she convinced me to take her place at the date."

Seeing the look on his face, she added quickly. "I told Luna it was a stupid idea and I'd hate to ruin – "

"Oh no!" started Blaise. "No, it's – it's great! I'm glad you came. They didn't know _who_ they were supposed to meet anyway…it can be a blind date."

Blaise's mind spun wildly as he showed the Weasley girl to the table.

He conjured a blindfold and charmed it to remain over her eyes until the end of the date. Blaise also cast the Tongue Tying Jinx, in case she tried to reveal her name.

"Gosh, Zabini!" she laughed, a little nervously. "You make it seem like you _don't_ want me to know who I'm seeing tonight…Well, as long as it isn't Malfoy."

Blaise chortled uneasily and turned to Disapparate. It was obvious that he needed a drink.


	37. XXXVII: Archaic

_Nothing belongs to me. _

**XXXVII: Archaic**

"What is this place?"

"Don't you know?"

Scorpius didn't like the smile tugging at the young woman's lips. There were a lot of things about this girl he didn't like – like how she dressed willingly in long, billowing robes in the middle of August and how she seemed to have an explanation for all his questions, but wouldn't share any.

"No." he answered finally, truthfully, staring around the house this stranger had taken him to.

"Not yet."

It had once been a magnificent manor. Now it was anything but.

There was an archaic aura about the place that suggested no one had lived here in ages.

But then again, perhaps, it was the state of the mansion that gave this fact away.

A thick carpet of dust coating the marble floors muffled his footsteps, and quilts of cobwebs hung daintily from the high ceiling and elegant chandeliers.

Even through the years of grime, Scorpius could sense some of the manor's former grandeur. Already, he could imagine fine crystal, delicate china, and crisp linens upon gleaming, polished surfaces.

Sounds behind Scorpius told him that the young woman had followed, and he raised his cell phone again for light.

He stood in front of a grand staircase.

"Is it safe?" he whispered, but Scorpius didn't bother to wait for an answer though and took a step.

In his mind, questions exploded like fireworks. Who was this girl? What was this place? And why had she taken him here?

He wanted nothing more than to spin around, traipse out of this dust bunny burrow, and forget everything. If it hadn't been for his desire to _know_, he would have.

A sudden movement, out of the corner of his eye, tore him from his thoughts.

On the wall next to him, he could see the outline of something, something large. Scorpius wiped the dust away to see a face staring at him through a window.

It wasn't a window, though, he realized, but a portrait, a portrait of a man. A handsome man with a handsome face. _His_ face.

Their resemblance was uncanny, as if Scorpius were staring into a mirror. In fact, the only thing that differed was their eyes: this man had grey eyes, and his were brown.


	38. XXXVIII: Home

_Nothing belongs to me._

**XXXVIII: Home**

Rain fell fast and beat hard against her head like Bludgers, not that she would know anything about it.

She didn't care that she was running through the freezing downpour. Not at this instant, that is, anyway. She didn't care that she had chosen to run instead of Floo-ing or Apparating. She needed to know, to be sure. They were just _rumors_…right?

Her destination in mind grew out of the darkness, thrown into the light of a great fork of lightning that split the sky. It was a charming manor, nowhere as big as it could have been.

Slipping a little, she reached the front door. The knocker was deliberately forgotten, and the young woman used her fists to announce her presence.

"Draco, Draco!" Her poundings were barely heard over the thunder and howling wind.

"Draco, let me in!" she screamed in anger, at the cold, at the rain, and at Draco, for not opening this door-.

She lost her footing and almost fell as the said door opened to reveal an equally angry (and shirtless) young man. Over his shoulder, she could see the light of a warm fire.

"Well," he greeted her, "I'd love to welcome you graciously into my home, but it's three in the effing morning, Pansy. _Whatever_ it is, it can wait."

"No, this can't wait!" She pushed past Draco.

"_Rude_."

Pansy launched herself into an armchair by the roaring fire. She turned to Draco, who settled into the seat opposite her.

"Is it true?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Draco ran a hand through his already tousled hair. "Is _what_ true?"

"What everyone's saying!" Pansy hissed. "About you and the Weasley girl – " She broke off, another voice floating over the sounds of the flames.

"Draco? Who are you talking to?"

Pansy stared over the top of Draco's chair.

Standing in the doorway was a girl, wearing nothing but a shirt, _Draco's_ shirt. Her dark red hair fell around her face and neck like a shroud.

Draco didn't answer her question or Pansy's for that matter – he didn't have to.


	39. XXXIX: Fun and Games

_Nothing belongs to me._

**XXXIX: Fun and Games**

It was that time of year again: Father was away. Mother was shopping in London, and the house elves remained in the kitchen unless summoned.

It was the one day, Scorpius and his sisters had the house to themselves. So naturally, it would be on this day they chose to hold their annual Dare Day.

"Okay, Scorpy!" Ara cried, after they all had gathered in the sitting room. "You're first!"

"Why me?"

"Because you're the oldest!" Lyra declared, smirking.

Scorpius sighed. "_Fine_…go on, then. Give me your best."

Ara and Lyra had a brief conference before deciding. "We dare you to break into Father's study."

Scorpius blanched. His sisters were evil (yeah, okay, he knew this already, but now he was positive of it).

No one entered Father's study, not even Mother or the house elves. _Ever_.

"Fine." Scorpius said calmly, although he was anything but calm.

Each step up the staircase and closer to the office felt like a step closer to his demise. Behind him, his sisters giggled; they knew perfectly well the impact of their dare.

"Good luck!" Ara called as Scorpius crept gingerly into the study.

The door snapped shut after him, and Scorpius waited for Death to swoop down upon him…

But nothing happened. This was a relief; Scorpius was sure the place had been booby trapped. He looked around.

It was a normal looking office, fancy, like the rest of the house.

There was a polished wooden desk in the back and several armchairs scattered in front of the fireplace. Three large windows behind the desk revealed a handsome view of the back garden.

Scorpius laughed at the thought of his sisters' intent.

This dare wasn't that bad, not bad at all. He proceeded to have a look around…

Almost half an hour later, Scorpius emerged, unscathed.

"Wow, I thought you were a goner!"

"_So_?" Ara demanded.

"So _what_?"

"What did you see?"

"Nothing." he replied, shrugging. Scorpius opened his mouth to say something else, but a feeling of unease stopped him.

He wouldn't let what he had witnessed in the study ruin his sisters' fun and games.


	40. XL: Clothes

_Nothing belongs to me._

**XL: Clothes**

"Ginevra, we're going to be late, and it's going to be entirely your fault – " Draco looked up from the letter he'd been reading, and it fell from his hands as his eyes combed the vision standing in from of him. "_What_ are you crying about now?"

"You did this to me, Malfoy, you bastard!" she screamed, rubbing her bulging stomach, tears splashing down her cheeks.

Draco didn't flinch at the use of his surname, _their_ surname.

"Ginevra," he said weakly, "you know _clearly_ what the law states."

"That fucking marriage law!"

Draco stared as his wife tugged furiously at her ruined dress: it had ripped in several places over her stomach.

"I knew I'd have to birth several spawns of Satan, but _really_? Two at once!" Ginny sniffed some more. It was a really good thing she hadn't applied any makeup yet. "I look like a whale!" she screeched.

"You don't look like a whale…" Draco reassured her. _Not yet._

"I can barely fit into any of my c-clothes!"

"Well, if it makes you feel any better," Draco responded, snatching up the fallen letter on the floor. "I like you better without any."


	41. XLI: Servant

_Nothing belongs to me. _

**XLI: Servant**

"Ah, Ginevra!" Oh, how she hated that voice, that face!

"What services do you require of me?" she asked quietly.

He cleared his throat.

"Master."

He did not answer but instead inquired, "From where did you come?"

"The kitchens."

There was a moment of silence, and then -

"Sit down."

Ginny stepped into the dim light of the study, but did not obey his command.

He was sitting behind his desk, smiling unpleasantly.

"I heard what you had done to Dean." she said suddenly.

"Ah, yes, it was funny, wasn't it?"

"It was disgusting. Like you."

Draco continued to smile creepily up at her. He got to his feet, appearing at Ginny's side in an instant.

"You're different, Ginevra - " he whispered, reaching out to touch her face. Draco began to trace her lips with his fingertips. " – from the other servants." His fingers had left her mouth and now traveled along her cheeks, jaw line, and neck.

Ginny stared determinedly ahead, trying to stop herself from shivering at his touch.

"You're so frustrating…and I like that about you." Draco ran his fingers through her hair.

"If you don't need me –" Ginny breathed, turning to leave, but he caught her arm.

"Let go of me!"

His grip on her arm tightened and Ginny could feel his hot breath on her neck; she closed her eyes.

"I'll never let you go."


	42. XLII: Roots

_Nothing belongs to me._

**XLII: Roots**

There are many ways to express anger. _But destroying flower gardens is not one of them._

Narcissa watched apprehensively as her husband wrenched her begonias from the earth, roots and all. He did this by hand, wand forgotten somewhere; Narcissa didn't even want to _think_ of what the state of his nails would be after this ordeal.

"Lucius! _Lucius_!"

He ignored her calls and started towards the rose bushes.

"No!" gasped Narcissa. This simply would not do – the roses were her favorite. "Stop it, Lucius! No! Stop!" Her wand, too, was forgotten with her violent attempts to calm her husband.

"Lucius – " Narcissa panted, dragging him away from the flower beds. "Lucius!"

She stepped back, picking up her discarded wand. With a wave of it, the garden was restored, and at the sight of this, her husband heaved a mighty sob.

"Lucius, darling!" Narcissa closed her eyes. "I _know_ you're angry, but this – _this_ is a bit much."

Lucius sobered at once, but there was still a note of distress in his voice when he responded.

"Y-You can't possibly understand, C-Cissy!"

"I _understand_ that you hate Arthur Weasley – but our son is marrying _his_ daughter."

"After _all _I've taught him!"

"Lucius," Narcissa sighed, sinking down onto the ground next to her husband, "you can't change who Draco loves."

"Maybe a good beating – "

"You'll do no such thing!" Narcissa snapped, tossing her long blonde hair back. "You are going to owl your son back and _congratulate_ him. _Do you hear me, Lucius Malfoy_?"

"Yeah, yeah. _Alright_!" he huffed, folding his arms. "I still can't believe it though."

"Good." she breathed, ignoring Lucius's last remark. "Now let's go inside, have a nice cup of tea. Doesn't that sound nice, darling? And afterwards, you can start writing Draco back.

Come on! Inside! _Now_."


	43. XLIII: Too Easy

_Nothing belongs to me._

**XLIII: Too Easy**

Draco thanked the heavens for the rain. She wouldn't have to know that he, too, was crying.

With the light cast by a great fork of lightning, he could see her retreating back.

He was soaked to the bone; as a result, his Hogwarts robes clung to him like a second skin, but Draco didn't care anymore.

"Ginny!" he screamed, chasing after her.

He caught her arm, and she shrieked, trying to pry from his clutch.

She gave up quickly though and turned to look at him, laughing bitterly. Her hair looked almost brown in the darkness, plastered to her head the way it was, and he could no longer distinguish her tears from the raindrops.

"It would be so easy for you," she gasped, "wouldn't it? For you to just walk out on me? Too easy, perhaps."

Ginny closed her eyes, tilting her head up toward the black skies. "Like it was so _easy_ for you to lie to me, to betray me." Her voice barely carried over the howling wind, but Draco was quick to notice her anger. "Like it was _easy_ for you to tell me you loved me." She turned away again, and he didn't hear her sobs through the sounds of the storm.

"I've changed." he breathed, pulling her back to face him. "There was a time when, yes, I sought the easy way out of life.

He reached out to cup her face in his trembling hands. "But if being with you has taught me anything, it was this."

The rain poured down harder than ever.

"Because of you, I'll always choose what's right over what's easy." Draco whispered, though he wasn't quite sure she had heard him.


	44. XLIV: Insane

_Nothing belongs to me._

**XLIV: Insane**

Blaise glanced worriedly down the Slytherin table. It was worse than he originally thought.

"I think," he muttered in an undertone to Theodore, who sat next to him, "it's time for an intervention."

Theodore hastily agreed.

Though neither had staged an intervention before, they had a fair idea of how it was done.

So after dinner, Blaise and Theodore hid outside the Great Hall, waiting.

The instant Draco Malfoy stepped into their line of vision a Stunning Spell (or two) was cast in his direction, and the two boys dragged their unconscious victim into the nearest unused classroom.

"I'll do it." said Theodore nervously when they were inside. He raised his wand. "_Ennervate!_"

Draco stirred feebly in the chair they had tied him to.

"What – the – hell – you – guys – "

"This is an intervention, mate." Blaise explained gently.

"We've seen the way you look at her."

Draco looked genuinely bemused for a few seconds but then, his widened in shock. "No!" he yelled. "No, no! _No!_ NO! _NO!_"

Blaise was glad he had thought to soundproof the room.

"Look, Draco, it's okay!"

"Yeah," added Theodore, "she seems like a nice girl…except for the whole, you know, blood traitor thing…"

You guys have to be bloody _insane_ to think – that I have a _thing _for that Weasley girl.

"Denial." chanted Blaise and Theodore, smirking at each other.

Draco screamed in frustration, fighting the bindings at his hand and feet. "Release me, you fiends!"

Blaise nodded at Theodore, and they pulled their chairs up next to Draco's.

"Do you feel butterflies in your tummy when you see her, Draco?"

"Yeah, do you _dream_ about her at night?" Theodore inquired, sniggering.

Draco paled. "No," he whispered, having stopped fighting his restraints at last.

All three of them knew at this instant that he was lying.


	45. XLV: Clouds

_Nothing belongs to me. _

**XLV: Clouds**

She had seen it coming all year. There had been _looks_ and little things, _signs_. Ginny Weasley was no idiot. So she wasn't surprised at all when Harry kissed her.

This is what she wanted…right? For the boy she'd loved half her life to love her back? _Yes_.

But – then _why_ did all feel so _wrong_?

Where were those fireworks she ordered? And the goose bumps? The butterflies? Whatever happened to the electricity (whatever that was), the spark, the _magic_?

Ginny couldn't feel anything apart from Harry's chapped lips and the horrible numb that was icing her insides.

Her mind was spinning out of her control, and she felt sick to her stomach.

She pulled away.

Around her the common room erupted into loud cheers, hoots, and whistles, but the whine of panic inside Ginny's head prevented her from making much sense of it all.

"Ginny?"

This was not happening.

"Ginny?"

"Wha-?"

Harry gestured towards the portrait hole. "I said, 'D'you want to go for a walk'?"

No, she couldn't possibly – "O-okay." – say yes…

It was an awkward walk, and an even more awkward talk.

Ginny only listened to half of what he had to say. She half heartedly agreed when he asked her to be his girlfriend, and almost immediately she regretted her quick defeat.

"I have to go to the, uh, bathroom." she told Harry the second they returned to the castle. He simply nodded.

Ginny was grateful for the excuse, as long as she didn't have to hold Harry's hand anymore.

Her legs carried her into Moaning Myrtle's bathroom. It had been years since she had set foot in this place.

No one would think to find her here.

Ginny crossed over to the unused sinks, staring morosely into the grimy mirror.

"I'm supposed to be _happy_! Like – like I'm floating on some clouds!"

She slammed her hand against the sink, employing a few choice swear words that would make even Ron proud.

Ginny would never realize that she wasn't alone.


	46. XLVI: Challenge

_Nothing belongs to me._

**XLVI: Challenge**

Ginny Weasley was a challenge, all right.

Of all the challenging witches in the world, Blaise just had to pick the one that hated him the most.

Draco would have to think this one over a little.

He had spent every day of the past week hovering in the Department of magical Games and Sports. Each time he had tried to talk to the fiery vixen she told him to go away, though with more colorful language.

How the hell was he supposed to seduce the girl when she had her wand jabbed into his face (and something similar shoved up her - )? And why wasn't she caught in his spell?

If Draco Malfoy was feeling confused, it wasn't anything like the bewilderment Ginny was experiencing.

"I just don't get it!" Ginny cried to Luna, after Malfoy's seventh attempt to approach her.

They sat in a pub somewhere, Ginny seriously sauced. Luna watched her interestedly as she downed her fourth fire whiskey.

"I mean, I get that he's trying to get into my knickers, but seriously! I'd've thought after the second or third time that he'd run off to try some witch from the Accidental Magic reversal Squad or something."

"Well," said Luna, fiddling with her butterbeer cap, "maybe you should let him."

"What?" Ginny sloshed her fifth (and last) shot down her front. "Let him what exactly?"

"Seduce you." said Luna simply.

"That is a butterbeer, right?"

"Yes."

"Then I must be more sauced than I thought."

"No, Ginny," Luna reassured, patting her arm gently. "When I said you should let him seduce you, I meant you should bait him a little, show him some of what he wants. And when he takes the bait, reel him in a little, then turn him loose. Pull him back again…drive him crazy, snag him in your trap and gut him – all without losing your worm."

"Gee, Luna, you seem to know a lot about this kind of stuff." slurred Ginny.

Her friend shrugged. "Well, I don't know how it works on men, but that's how I catch Freshwater Plimpies."

Ginny pondered Luna's words to the best of her ability in her altered state.

"I think," she said slowly, "I'll take you up on that, Luna."

After all, Ginny Weasley was never one to turn down a challenge.


	47. XLVII: Sight

_Nothing belongs to me._

**XLVII: Sight**

Scorpius laughed at the thought of his sister's intent. This dare wasn't that bad, not bad at all. He proceeded to have a good look around Father's office.

It was strange. Nothing was locked away or hidden out of sight. It was just a normal office. Then _why_ had Father forbidden anyone to enter it?

A sudden movement distracted Scorpius from his musings: the black cabinet he was standing in front of had sprung open.

From its depths, Scorpius could see the light of something shimmering inside a stone basin propped there. A closer look did improve his knowledge of this thing. The basin had strange runes carved into its edge, and strange silvery white _stuff_ flitted within. Scorpius didn't know whether it was liquid or solid. To him, it seemed like _both_.

Before he could stop himself, Scorpius had reached into the mist like an idiot.

He was dragged forward, headfirst into the basin, and into another room.

"Sorry, I'm sor –!" He gasped, goggling at the man whose memory he'd just fallen into – Father.

But Father was younger. Yes, there were no lines on his face, and his hair was all there.

Father did not look at him, or make any indication that he had seen the boy that seemed to fall out of nowhere.

Scorpius thrust a hand into father's face, but Draco Malfoy continued on his way, unperturbed by his son's attempts to get his attention.

They were walking along a clean and brightly lit corridor. St. Mungo's, Scorpius noted, seeing the names of several healers stamped upon the door Father had just opened.

They were in a ward as clean and as bright as the corridor outside. It was completely empty except for the woman lying on a bed near the door and now, Father. Oh, and Scorpius.

At first, he had assumed the woman was Mother, but was mistaken as he watched her wave her dark red hair out of her face.

"Ginny!" Draco breathed, rushing to the foot of her bed.

This _Ginny_ did not answer, but stared into the bundle of blankets cradled in her arms.

"Your son," she whispered, lifting the bundle of blankets upward, into Father's open arms, "Scorpius."

Her brown eyes, _his_ brown eyes, were full of tears.

Scorpius toppled backwards with a shuddering gasp. He was pleased and a little dismayed to find himself back in Father's office.


	48. XLVIII: Flowers

_Nothing belongs to me._

**XLVIII: Flowers**

Though the Potter children were quite used to it, their mother's "disappearances" remained something of a mystery to them.

They never knew where she went or what she did, but it was always the same, everyday.

At precisely noon, Ginny Potter would drop whatever she was doing at the moment and vanish for fickle amounts of time, leaving her children behind with the house elf that conveniently materialized.

Upon returning, Ginny would act as though she had been present all along. James, Albus, and Lily tried questioning her about it, on many occasions, but it was useless: their mother wouldn't speak of it.

She had done _this_ – it – as long as they could remember, everyday, even on holidays, each year.

Their father never made much of it.

"Well, perhaps your mum goes shopping…" was what he had always offered before quickly changing the subject to that of his work or Quidditch.

This habit, however, only suggested that he knew more than he was letting on.

Horribly unsatisfied, the children had decided to scavenge further details on their own.

With vigilant observation, they learned this:

Their mother Disapparated, always, with nothing but a bouquet of fresh flowers, and when she returned the flowers would be gone.

Apart from this, they knew nothing else, and after James headed off to Hogwarts, their quest became strained, eventually crumbling.

It wasn't until the summer before James's final year at Hogwarts when their curiosity finally bested them.

Not a week had passed after the end of term when James came home, flushed with excitement.

"I've passed my Apparition Test!"

There were sounds of appreciation in the kitchen, at his news.

"Wow, Jamie!"

("_Finally_!" exclaimed Albus. "It's been _what_ – fifty seven times?" James merely scowled.)

"Darling, that's wonderful!" Ginny moved towards him, her arms outstretched. "Oh, wait until Harry hears – !"

She had frozen, staring horrorstruck at the clock on the wall, her arms still raised. In a swift movement, she snatched up her wand on the counter, and with the vase of flowers sitting on the table. With a pop, Ginny was gone.

Lily stared sadly at the spot where their mum had stood. "_Why_ does she do that?"

Albus patted his brother awkwardly on the arm. "It's okay, Jamie. She'll be back."

James shook his head, his face now ashen. "I think it's about time we figured out just what Mum's been hiding."


	49. XLIX: More

_Nothing belongs to me. _

**XLIX: More**

Ginny groaned, opening her eyes. She was in a familiar room, lying in a familiar bed, entangled in familiar emerald green sheets.

Next to her an Adonis, her Adonis, awoke, lifting himself up into a sitting position.

Ginny pulled the sheets closer to her body. She felt rather weak. Not even detention with the Carrows could make her feel as sore as she did after one of her midnight escapades with Draco.

"What is this?" she asked suddenly, after a few moments of silence. She stared blankly around his dormitory – as Head Boy, Draco received his own. She turned to him.

When he didn't respond, she pressed on. "What are we?" whispered Ginny. "Am I just – just one of your conquests?"

"What _are_ you going on about, Ginevra?"

She huffed, pushing her long hair out of her face. "I want to be _more_ than just your slice of apple pie, Malfoy!"

He raised a brow at the use of his surname and mention of dessert, but Ginny did not falter.

"For all I know, you could be having some cherry or blueberry pie on the side!" Ginny exclaimed heatedly. "Hell, even Sheppard's pie!"

Draco looked horribly bemused, even more so than Neville Longbottom did in a Double Potions Class with Professor Snape.

She just wished he would say _something_ – and that this awful flush would leave her cheeks!

"I-I want to be your only pie." Ginny murmured, looking away ashamedly.

Draco placed a single hand on the small of her back, and she closed her eyes at his touch. They fluttered open again, though, at his next words.

"There shall be no other pie."


	50. L: Love

_Nothing belongs to me._

**L:Love**

He didn't know how much time had passed. He knew though, how he must have looked filthy – with his hair and face fouled with blood and dirt – and strange – staring vacantly into the space twenty feet in front of him.

And he knew they were watching him. He could feel their worried gazes upon him, but it didn't really matter anyway. Nothing did anymore.

"Draco." His mother's voice floated somewhere across him. He could feel her warm, soft hand over his own as she captured it.

He closed his eyes, pulling out of her grasp.

He wouldn't cry. Though the tears already stung at the corners of his eyes, he wouldn't let them fall. And he wouldn't look back; he didn't have to.

The sounds of their grief carried over to the Slytherin table. No, he didn't have to look back.

"Draco." This voice was deeper, a male's. He didn't need to open his eyes to know who it belonged to.

"Did you love her much?"

Draco's eyes snapped open at this, and he stared at the man sitting across from him.

"With all my heart."

His father only nodded.


	51. LI: Anent

_Nothing belongs to me. _

**LI: Anent**

The door to his father's study snapped shut behind him. It had been years since his father last stepped foot in it.

The same man who had murdered Lucius Malfoy now stood before him, his back facing the door.

Draco was a bit relieved. This way, those horrible scarlet eyes wouldn't have to pierce him.

"You called, My Lord?"

The Dark Lord did not move.

"This is a matter anent the girl."

"Yes, My Lord?"

There was an abrupt pause.

"Kill her."

"M-My Lord?"

"She is of no use to me." The high voice was like a blast of cold air; already, Draco felt goose bumps erupt on the back of his neck. "She knows nothing of Potter's whereabouts. Finish her."

"As you wish," Draco said softly, "My Lord."

He backed out of the office, closing his eyes once outside the door. Draco swallowed the lump that formed in his throat, feeling brutally sick.

How did the Dark Lord expect him to kill the girl? He could barely cast the Cruciatus Curse!

Harming Ginny Weasley was the last thing Draco wanted to do, and they both knew it.


	52. LII: Corner

_Nothing belongs to me._

**LII: Corner**

"Now, Draco."

Father's voice was quiet, but he still managed to catch every word.

Draco didn't like having to sit in this corner while Father talked, but Mother said it was for the best.

He gulped. "Y-Yes, Father?"

He smirked, his lips twisting into that malevolent smile. "Tell me," Father drawled, "about the Weasleys."

Draco took a deep breath, hoping he wouldn't forget anything this time, and recited, "The Weasleys are a pathetic excuse for a pureblooded family. They are nothing but filthy blood traitors, no better than Muggles and Mudbloods."

Father nodded. "And never forget that, Draco."

He wouldn't.


	53. LIII: Guilt

_Nothing belongs to me._

**LIII: Guilt**

"What's up?" Hermione asked as her two best friends plopped down into seats next to her.

Ron looked violently sick. He was a horrible shade of green, and Harry didn't look any better. He was running a nervous hand through his untidy hair, like he always did whenever he was nervous. His eyes darted continually between Ron and the entry to the Great Hall.

"I can't believe we did that." Ron croaked, ignoring Hermione.

"We?" repeated Harry indignantly. "You were the one holding the wand!"

"It doesn't matter. She's going to slaughter you anyway. You were _there_ – that's enough."

Harry paled as though he had only just realized this. "What's this, Ron?" he asked his friend weakly, in retaliation. "Feeling a little guilt?"

"Are you kidding?" Ron stared up at the Head Table. "She deserved it!"

"What did you _do_, Ron?" Surprisingly, this was not Hermione, but Dean Thomas.

"I'm not telling you!" Ron spat, glaring at him.

"What _did_ he do?" Hermione inquired, looking expectantly at Harry.

But at that moment, Great Hall's doors crashed open with such a loud bang, everyone was surprised to see it hadn't been ripped clean off their hinges.

"Ronald Weasley!" screamed a voice, thick with emotion and a hundred times louder than it would have been with the silence that engulfed The Hall. This wild cry of fury was not unlike that of Molly Weasley's in a notorious Howler sent to a certain _someone_ four years previously.

Ginny charged over to their table, slamming her hands down. Her face was redder than her hair, a pretty shade of magenta.

(Everyone sitting in the Great Hall later agreed that they had never seen anyone look angrier.)

Several first and second years sitting at the table took refuge underneath it as everyone watched transfixed. You could hear a quill drop with the silence that ensued; everyone seemed to forget how to breathe.

Next –

Ronald Weasley squealed like a girl as his little sister sprung into action, lunging across the Gryffindor table, her wand discarded. Most people probably would too, squeal, that is, had they seen the raging fire dancing in Ginny's eyes.

She knocked her brother right off the bench and onto the stone floor. Her fists began to soar, attacking every inch of Ron they could find. Ginny's hits made the Whomping Willow look like a twig.

The teachers were too surprised to act.


	54. LIV: Prisoner

_Nothing belongs to me._

**LIV: Prisoner**

_It could have been worse_, Draco thought.

They could have chucked him in a grimy dungeon, giving him only stale, moldy bread and "water" for food. They could have tortured him, inflicting unimaginably excruciating pain upon him, in order to get the information they had kidnapped him for.

They didn't have to put him in this nice room. Sure, it was small, unlike anything else he'd ever experienced, but it was cozy. The bed was acceptable, the décor tasteful. The food was appetizing, and he wasn't denied bathroom and toiletries.

Hell, if it hadn't been for the fact that his wand had been taken and that he was bound and restrained the entire time, Draco probably would have forgotten he was their prisoner.

He had visitors sometimes: just various members of the Oder trying to get him to talk. When he refused, they didn't resort to violence, instead leaving him.

_No, this place wasn't that bad_, Draco mused.

But, of course, that was before the torture began. It came to him, one day, in the form of a woman.

She was tall(ish) with lovely long legs and a gorgeous ruby red mane. Draco hated to admit it, but she was beautiful, as beautiful as she was familiar – very.

"What are _you_ doing here?" he demanded, biting back the insult he had ready, waiting. Draco knew better than to bite the hand that fed him.

"I'm going to be your jailer for a while." she said, smiling mischievously.

Draco inhaled, his eyes raking over her body. "How long exactly is _a while_?"

Her smile broadened. "Oh, I don't know. As long as it takes for you to talk."

"Forget it, Weasley. Even your most powerful Order members couldn't get a word out of me." Draco tugged at the restraints at his arms. "What makes you think you can?"

Their eyes met for the briefest of seconds.

"I have my ways." she whispered.


	55. LV: Craft

_Nothing belongs to me. _

**LV: Craft**

_I have my ways._ Draco didn't like the sound of those words.

"What are you going to do?" he asked finally, after minutes of hush. "Torture me?"

She turned back towards him, "Precisely."

Draco sneered. "So you think you've mastered the craft of torture, have you Weaslette?"

"I have a name, you know." she snapped peevishly. "It's Ginny. And, yes, I do believe I've mastered the art."

"What are you going to do? Stay here and disgust me until I crack?"

"Something like that, yeah."

Draco snorted, staring up at the woman who now towered over his chair. He stopped abruptly however when she bent over him, pressing her lips against his own.

He had never expected this, any of it – one, for her to kiss him, two, for him not to be revolted, and lastly three, for him to actually like it.

Before Draco could respond properly though, she had pulled away, a smirk dancing on her lips.

His heart pounded, and he watched anxiously as she straightened up, twisting away from him again.

All he could see now was her bum, hidden beneath the tight material of the green dress she wore; Draco didn't mind the view.

Before he knew it, she stood facing him once more. This time, though, she took it a step further: Ginny sank into his lap.

He groaned, wondering why his hands had to be strapped uselessly to the arms of this chair.

"Why are you sitting on me?" he asked stupidly.

"Draco." The single word was a command. Her hands roamed shamelessly across his chest, lingering at the buttons on his shirt.

"Yes?" he murmured, a little scared.

"Shut up."

He obeyed, ready this time as she pulled him into a searing kiss.


	56. LVI: Misfortune

_Nothing belongs to me. _

**LVI: Misfortune**

Okay, maybe breaking up with Dean in the middle of the crowded common room wasn't the smartest thing she'd done today (or ever). But, really, today just wasn't Ginny's day.

First, she'd woken up late, and thinking she was late for class, she had burst into the empty Defense Against the Dark Arts Classroom where Professor Snape curtly informed her that it was Saturday. When she'd told Dean all about the whole embarrassing ordeal, he just laughed in her face. This act had lead to their fight and eventually the breakup, which explained why Ginny was now storming off.

She couldn't pretend she didn't hear the whispers that followed her as she made her way down to the Quidditch Pitch.

It was the only place Ginny wanted to be right now. In the sky, with the wind whipping her face and hair, her problems falling behind, stranded on earth...

Ginny stole into the broom shed, emerging minutes later, a Cleansweep Seventy resting on one shoulder.

She took a deep cleansing breath, mounted her broom, and kicked hard off the ground. Her worries were swept away as she rose high above the stands.

Ginny gazed eagerly around the empty pitch, only to find it not empty.

Who did this _idiot_ think he was flying around on _her _pitch?

_Of course_, Ginny thought, glaring at the silver blur zooming around the goal posts at the other end of the pitch.

She sped towards the intruder.

"Hey!"

Malfoy turned. "What, Weasley?" He looked almost bored. "This pitch isn't big enough for the two of us?"

"Yes! Exactly!"

"So this is the part when you kick me off the pitch?" There was the ghost of a smirk on his face.

Ginny snarled, leaning forward on her broom. The Cleansweep moved on its accord.

She screamed trying to swerve out of the way, but it was too late: Ginny slammed into one of the goal posts.

She toppled backwards off her broomstick. She was only, oh, fifty feet up.

And she was falling, screaming, falling, screaming, falling – dying surely.

Today just wasn't her day.

Ginny closed her eyes, waiting for impact. It came. Funny, the collision wasn't as painful as she had expected. She certainly didn't feel broken…or dead.

Her eyes fluttered open, finding a known cold grey.

She would have to add being saved by Draco Malfoy to her list of the day's misfortunate.


	57. LVII: Plot

_Nothing belongs to me._

**LVII: Plot**

"I can't stand it anymore, Cissy!" Lucius exclaimed, his fist finding the desktop.

"I know, darling, I know…" his wife cooed, placing her hands on his shoulders.

"Why does he insist on being so selfish? Right there, Narcissa." he added, referring to a spot on his neck. Narcissa massaged it at once.

"You have so much tension!"

"Yeah, I know – it's just not fair, Cissy!" Lucius pulled up the day's _Daily Prophet_ in front of him. He flipped to the _Announcements_ section of the paper, slapping it down. "Look at this, Cissy!" he moaned, pointing at the birth announcements. "Why does Draco insist on denying me grandchildren?"

Narcissa pursed her lips. "Now, Lucius, you _know_ Draco doesn't want to settle down."

Lucius huffed. "And we can't arrange a marriage for him." he continued bitterly. "No witch is going to want to marry a Malfoy nowadays –"

"Except for maybe Pansy Parkinson…" his wife interjected.

Lucius shuddered. As much as he wanted grandchildren, he would _not_ do that to his only son. "No," he replied hastily, "the only way he'll take a bride is if he's forced to –" He froze, his eyes widening.

"Lucius?"

"It's brilliant!" he said breathlessly, leaping from his armchair. Narcissa jumped rearward, looking alarmed.

"What's brilliant?"

But Lucius did not seem to hear his wife, for he was too busy scheming. "If I pretend to be fatally ill…change my will…force him to marry…Tinky…he'll marry…for the money….can brew fertility potions too...I won't be dead…force them…will fall in love over time…waiting for me to die…"

Behind him, Narcissa seemed frightened. It was never a good sign when Lucius began to talk to himself.

Lucius, however, was feeling rather triumphant. "It's brilliant!" he repeated, turning to relay his latest plot to his wife.

It was crazy, yes, risky, definitely, and it would take a lot of work, he knew it.

And Draco wouldn't like this, not at all, but it wasn't like _he_ was going to _know_ anything of it anyway.

The Sorting Hat didn't place Lucius Malfoy in Slytherin for nothing.


	58. LVIII: Pen to Paper

_Nothing belongs to me._

**LVIII: Pen to Paper**

Draco sighed, dipping his quill in the ink pot.

It was hard enough thinking about the whole ordeal, now he would he have to put it in words.

He was in for a rough night, and Ginny Weasley would be in for a rougher morning.

She received a letter from an unfamiliar owl. Wondering who this handsome creature could possibly belong to, Ginny read:

_Dear Miss Weasley,_

_I don't know how to write this. And it pains me to, but I need your help._

_You see, you're the only person who can – _

_Well, I think I should start at the beginning._

_As you may or may not know, my father is dying. Being his only son, I shall inherit the entire Malfoy fortune when he does._

_Unluckily, before I can receive it, I have to meet certain criteria, or else all the money shall be passed on to our house elf, Tinky. This _**can't**_happen._

_So, Miss Weasley, you must be wondering just what "criteria" I am required to meet._

_Which is this: I must be _happily_ married by the time of my father's death._

_No! Don't chuck this in your fireplace yet! Just keep reading, please._

_The Malfoy name is mud nowadays. Nobody wants to be associated with our family, and everyone just loves the Weasleys so I thought… _

_Please, don't make me have to marry Pansy Parkinson. She's probably the only girl who'll actually want to be my wife._

_I don't even know why I'm begging! It's not like you have any choice in this, I'm afraid. _

_D' you remember that day a few years ago, _five_ years ago when I saved your life? Yeah, you fell off your broom, and I just happened to catch you._

_Do you know what that means? It's called a life debt, Miss Weasley. _

_This is a perfect opportunity to repay me. You'll marry me – when Father hears that I've wed a Weasley, he'll probably keel over and die – and then we can get a divorce. It will be over, no one will ever have to know, and I'll even offer to split the inheritance to sweeten the deal._

_We'll split it evenly, 80-20. Merlin _knows_ you need the money._

_Remember Weasley, _life debt_._

_Owl me back with the soonest time we can meet. And hurry, will you?_

_Father could croak any day now._

_Your Possibly Future Husband (Most Likely),_

_Draco Malfoy_


	59. LIX: Stars

_Nothing belongs to me._

**LIX: Stars**

The world had ended. Draco's world had ended.

His mind spiraled out of control as he tried to grasp the impossibility that – _no_, it couldn't be.

The ice that had numbed him as he watched her fall now transformed into fire, raging hotter that any flame that ever dared to burn before.

He barely heard the shouts around him, with all this dull ringing in his ears –

"NOT MY DAUGHTER, YOU BITCH!"

Molly Weasley threw off her cloak as she ran, freeing her arms, but he got there first.

Bellatrix's laugh died on her lips at this sudden change of events.

Draco could feel his grip on his mother's wand tighten as he raised it. Hate coursed through him like venom, and one side of the Great Hall was illuminated by the green light that surged from the borrowed wand.

His aunt hadn't stood a chance.

Draco dropped to his knees, inch toward his world, his fallen angel.

She laid perfectly still, her crimson hair pinned beneath her, a look of peace etched across her features. She could have been sleeping, had her eyes been closed.

They stared up at Draco, unseeing, for the stars had long since left them.


	60. LX: Judging

_Nothing belongs to me._

**LX: Judging**

"You're judging me, aren't you?"

James looked down at his mother. She looked so tragic stooping in the grass, the flowers in her hands.

"No, Mum. I don't blame you."

He just wished he could take it all back, that he didn't follow her here.

At last he knew just where his mother had gone everyday at noon, all his life, _no_, longer: _here_.

Oh, how he wished he could go back to not knowing, back to wondering, back to ignorance! It was probably better.

After all, _it_ had been for the best.

But, oh! He had been so angry with her yesterday – for Disapparating on him. Again. He'd just gotten his Apparition License for Merlin's sake!

_I think it's about time we figured out just what Mum's been hiding._

"You can't be serious!" Lily had argued

"I'm dead serious. I want to know where Mum's been running off to all these years!"

His siblings looked dubious.

"Don't we deserve to know just what it is that's so important that mum has to _leave_ us?"

It had taken a while, but in the end Albus and Lily reluctantly agreed.

A brilliant plan was deliberated.

Lily researched tracking charms. Albus had Floo-ed to the Burrow and borrowed one of Granddad's GPS things, whatever that was. And during this, James had stolen away and _borrowed_ Dad's cloak.

Since he was the only one who could perform magic, James had cast the tracking charm on their mother when she went to sleep.

The subsequent waiting had been the hardest part.

"You'll tell us everything?" Lily whispered, watching James pull on the Invisibility Cloak. It was time.

Behind them, Albus had punched their mum's current coordinates into the Muggle device. She was in Wiltshire, _where_ exactly though, James was about to find out.

"You will tell us, won't you?"

"Of course," James promised before vanishing with a pop.

Around him, the living room fell away and the most unexpected scene materialized around him: a cemetery.

This is where he was now, nearly an hour after noon, standing behind his mother who sat, kneeling in front of two graves.

"I don't know why I still come here every day." she whispered. "I guess I just love him too much to not to…"

His mother reached out to touch the name on the first headstone, a lone tear rolling down her cheek.

DRACO MALFOY


	61. LXI: Hello

_Nothing belongs to me._

**LXI: Hello**

James still felt nauseous after Apparating, despite the many times he'd done it.

A new scene materialized before him.

He stood between two large beech trees. Directly ahead, just a short distance away, he could see a wrought iron gate surrounding a –

James moved closer underneath the cloak and gasped.

It was a cemetery.

There must've been hundreds of graves. Surely his mother wouldn't come _here_. But – where else was there to go?

He circled the graveyard, looking for her. He spotted her, just further on. It wasn't hard; his mother was the only living person here, apart from himself.

The grass muffled his invisible steps.

He reached her.

She sat, kneeling before two graves, the day's flowers clutched in her hands.

James's eyes flickered up to the names etched in stone.

DRACO MALFOY/ SCORPIUS MALFOY

How many times had he heard that name spew hatefully from Uncle Ron's lips?

Too many. This _had_ to be the same boy who had made his uncle's time at Hogwarts hell.

His mind was reeling. Instead of his curiosity waning at the mystery's resolution, it peaked.

James was ripped from his thoughts, though, when his mother spoke.

Her voice was barely above a whisper, but he still managed to catch every word.

"He's gotten so old, seventeen. I told you already, of course, but it still amazes me. It seems like only yesterday that I was holding him in my arms.

"He looks just like Harry, my eyes, of course, and he acts just like his father." Ginny looked thoughtful. (James couldn't see this, however.)

"But if you asked me, I'd say that he reminds me of you a little." she added softly.

James released the breath he didn't realize he'd been holding. He didn't like the way she spoke tenderly to him – his headstone – almost in a loving way.

Ginny whipped around violently, and James froze.

Her eyes searched the space where James stood, invisible. Finally, after several long moments, she went back to the graves.

Just when he thought he was safe, she spoke again,

"Hello, James."


	62. LXII: Break Away

_Nothing belongs to me. _

**LXII: Break Away**

"Ginny, I've been waiting for you!" Dean handed her a butterbeer. "Where were you?"

In the bathroom, freaking out. "Charms corridor." she said vaguely. This wasn't exactly a lie. Okay, maybe. But she _had been_ in the Charms corridor, though only for a short while.

"You look like you've been attacked."

Ginny laughed nervously, taking a swig of her drink.

There was a commotion at the front of the room.

Dean and Ginny pushed through the crowd that had gathered, trying to see what was going on. By the sounds of it, someone had crashed Slughorn's Christmas party.

Filch was clutching none other than Draco Malfoy.

Professor Snape flew to his side, escorting the Slytherin out, but not before Malfoy had spotted Ginny.

Their eyes met for the briefest of seconds, and she knew that he was also thinking of the incident that had occurred, not even half an hour before.

…

"You look nice for once, Weasley."

"Sod off!" Ginny hissed, whipping out her wand. Still, his words held some truth. For the first time in her life, Ginny wore a new dress, one that hadn't been owned previously; Fred and George had sent it to her as part of this year's Christmas gift. "Don't you have some first years to terrorize?"

Malfoy rolled his eyes, stepping out from his hiding spot behind Barnaby the Bald. "I can't even compliment anyone without getting hexed."

"What are you doing here?"

Malfoy blinked. "Walking." He took a step forward. "I can do that, can't I?" he asked with mock uncertainty as his eyes flickered up to a spot above her head.

Ginny huffed (?), tired of the Slytherin, his smirk and annoyingly handsome face. She was about to storm off when Malfoy grabbed her arm.

"Hey –" She never did get to finish her last statement.

He kissed her.

Ginny was so surprised she couldn't decide whether to break away or not. She didn't have to, though; it was over as quick as it had come.

"Mistletoe," Malfoy breathed, taking a step back.

Ginny glanced up. Indeed, mistletoe.

Malfoy had vanished.

The feel of his lips had not.


	63. LXIII: Giving

_Nothing belongs to me. _

**LXIII: Giving**

Dean didn't like the look Malfoy was giving his girlfriend.

This wasn't the first time he'd caught the Slytherin gawking at Ginny. _His_ Ginny.

Every meal, everyday he'd see him, two tables away – Malfoy, just ogling at her, staring at his girlfriend like a hungry dingo would a koala, or whatever dingoes ate…

No, Dean didn't like it one bit.

"He's _doing it again_." he muttered, stabbing moodily at his potatoes.

"Well, _maybe_," said Ginny, pulling a gravy boat toward her, "maybe he's looking at _Harry_." Who happened to be sitting on Ginny's left.

Dean decided not to mention the dingo thing.


	64. LXIV: Competitor

_Nothing belongs to me._

**LXIV: Competitor**

Slowly the conference room emptied, until, at last, only two remained.

Ginny turned to face the man who, also, lingered behind.

He was still the same as he had been back at school.

She supposed that some things would never change. Winter would always come after fall, and Draco Malfoy would always be an arrogant bastard.

"Only one of us can win in the end." He smirked. "And obviously, it's going to be me," he drawled, waggling his unnaturally thin eyebrows.

Ginny wanted nothing more, at that moment, than to burn them off, along with the rest of his unbearably beautiful face.

There was no way he was going to get this promotion.

"We'll see about that." she responded, turning on her heel.

No way in hell.

She would make sure of it.


	65. LXV: Surface

_Nothing belongs to me. _

**LXV: Surface**

Lily had seen the fleeting glance that passed between her mother and the notorious Mr. Malfoy today, in the station. To anyone else, it might have been coincidental, innocent, _meaningless_. But if Lily had learned anything from her cousin Rose, it was this: nothing is what it seems.

"You have to look beneath the surface." Rose had said, knowledgeably, agreeing to teach her the art of observation.

So Lily had – looked beneath the surface, that is – noting the pained expression on Mr. Malfoy's face and the way his body seemed to tense at the sight of her mother. Lily saw that her mother, too, seemed to stiffen, her amber eyes filled with sadness, even after she had turned away.

These observations, Lily knew, told of a story untold, perhaps forgotten.

She would rather like to hear this tale, but Lily knew better than to question her mother about it.


	66. LXVI: Dark

_Nothing belongs to me_.

**LXVI: Dark**

Angelina had gone too far.

After their narrow victory over Hufflepuff, she had succumbed to drastic tactics to ensure another win, this time over Ravenclaw, in the last match of the season.

Ginny couldn't blame her though – Last year at Hogwarts…Quidditch Captain… last chance at winning the Cup…blah, blah, blah…

And Ron was no Oliver Wood.

So Ginny supposed it would be natural for Angelina to take every precaution, to do _everything_ in her power to make sure the Gryffindor team had the upper hand.

And by this, of course, Angelina had meant spying on the Ravenclaw team.

Sometimes, Ginny wondered how Angelina would fare in Slytherin.

But, anyways, the spying thing… Yeah, it wasn't such an uncommon thing. Everyone did it – The Slytherins, duh, at every chance. Hell, even the Hufflepuffs sometimes.

Already, Ravenclaw Captain Davies had sent scouts to observe the Gryffindor practices, and it was only an amount of time before Angelina did the same.

And it wasn't like it was cheating or anything! Well, maybe...

So, the spying thing was a go? Yes…but _who_ would be doing the spying? Obviously, it would have to be someone on the team… Angelina, Alicia, and Katie had their N.E., Ron needed all the practice he could get, and Beaters Kirk and Sloper were out of the question – which left Ginny.

She grudgingly agreed, telling Angelina that she'd spy from the stands but nooo... Angelina _had_ to take it a step further, one step too far.

This explained why Ginny was here. In the dark. Hiding in a closet in what she thought was the Ravenclaw locker room but, due to a mistake that was entirely her own, was actually the _Slytherin_ locker room.

She was wondering were the Ravenclaw team was – it wasn't like them to be late for anything – when the door to her closet swung open to reveal the last person on earth she would ever want to find her hiding in a closet.


	67. LXVII: Taste

_Nothing belongs to me. _

**LXVII: Taste**

Draco seriously considered talking if it meant getting untied, he'd tell them everything they had kidnapped him for, and more.

He didn't think he could survive another day here. Draco privately commended the clever chap who had thought to assign Ginny Weasley as his jailer.

Her brand of torture had finally gotten through to him: For over a month, the fiery vixen had succeeded in seducing him.

Draco tried to be strong, really, he did. He had tried not to like the way her tongue moved inside his mouth like he had tried _so_ hard not to groan when she'd sit in his lap, but he just did. _A lot_, maybe too much, perhaps.

But in his defense, it wasn't _his_ fault.

It wasn't like he _wanted_ to be tied to a chair sitting helplessly as the girl practically fondled him, her soft hands roaming across his chest, stomach, and thighs while his own hands remained inconveniently bound. He didn't _make_ her tease him, the way she did, her fingers hovering lovingly at the buttons on his shirt or at the zipper on his pants. Though he secretly may have wished for her to, Draco certainly didn't _force_ her to take off her clothes and display her assets, standing _just_ out of his reach. And he definitely didn't _ask_ her to pull away, straighten up, and leave him, agonized and sexually frustrated beyond imagination.

Draco was tired of it, of being deprived. He'd talk, if that's what it meant. They didn't have to free him, just untie his hands, one of them, at least, for Merlin's sake! So, so he could touch her – her hair, her cheek – so he could feel her.

Draco already had a taste of Ginny Weasley, thanks, but now, he wanted to savor her – with his hands (and, if Merlin should permit it, some other appendages).


	68. LXVIII: Fixed

_Nothing belongs to me._

**LXVIII: Fixed**

It had taken months, but it was finally done. The Vanishing Cabinet was fixed.

And for the first time in a long time, Draco Malfoy felt truly happy. So happy, in fact, that he actually _apologized_ to the person he had just knocked over in his haste to get back to the dungeons.

…

Ginny Weasley stared after the retreating platinum blonde head, unable to believe what just happened.


	69. LXIX: Hate

_Nothing belongs to me._

**LXIX: Hate**

"What the hell are you talking about, Ron?" Ginny shook her head feverishly. "I hate Draco Malfoy!" she screamed.

Ron laughed indignantly. "Hate him enough to _stick your tongue down his throat_?"

Ginny blushed, her face tinged with pink. She opened her mouth and closed it again, turning on her heel and storming off.

It seemed that he had just struck a nerve.


	70. LXX: Time

_Nothing belongs to me._

**LXX: Time**

_"If you could turn back time, what would you change?" She sounded so weak and fragile, so tired. _

_He cradled her in his arms, his voice failing him as he watched her slip away, "Everything."_

Around him, his desk returned, along with its unorganized state: there were scraps of parchment, with ancient runes and symbols, notes and observations scribbled messily upon them; dusty books, open to unhelpful pages; and quills, broken and needing to thrown out.

Draco opened his eyes, rubbing the sleep from them.

_If you could turn back time... _

He straightened up, swiveling around. He saw nothing but the small, dingy bed in the small, dingy bedroom of his small, dingy apartment.

He sighed, scratching one side of his unshaven face.

It had been many, many years since he had last heard that voice.

But with any luck today, he'd hear it again, soon.

Time was a curious thing.

"What would you change?" Draco asked himself, though he already knew the answer.

He pulled his notes closer to the lamplight, reviewing them one last time. In his left hand, he fingers closed around his wand, something else familiar to him, even after all these years.

The air in the room began to change as the aged man whispered long forgotten incantations.

Today, he would succeed. Everything would change.

_Everything._


	71. LXXI: Sorrow

_Nothing belongs to me._

**LXXI: Sorrow**

She couldn't remember how long she had been in the bathtub.

Long, she supposed, making note of fingers and how they resembled prunes.

Maybe she'd stay here forever, in the water, and maybe this sorrow would wash away.

"Ginny, are you in there?"

She couldn't bring herself to answer.


	72. LXXII: Take My Hand

_Nothing belongs to me._

**LXXII: Take My Hand**

"I can't do it!"

She didn't believe him. Draco could tell. It was funny because, now, he wasn't too sure if he believed it himself.

"I can't do it." he said again, this time more to himself.

The Healers had thought it was impossible. They still did.

Draco couldn't understand why she didn't give up yet. He had, a long time ago.

It was unnerving – the way she insisted on staying here with him, in this old house. She could've gone back to St. Mungo's, leaving him with a house elf or something – that was how it was before – but no... She stayed.

Draco would never have admitted it out loud, but he was secretly grateful for Ginny Weasley.

"Just try again." she whispered, placing a hand on his knee. Draco winced.

"I can't! I can't do it!" he cried bitterly, shaking his head, "Not alone."

"But you're not alone." Ginny breathed, kneeling by his side, smiling, a little sadly. "I'm with you."

Draco looked into her eyes, trying to read the emotion written in them. He watched her get to her feet.

"Take my hand." she breathed.

He did as asked and tried again to push himself out of his chair. His legs refused.

It seemed that they had realized that they were never meant to walk again.

All his attempts to stand before had been in vain, but now it was different with Ginny. She really wanted this, didn't she? To help him…

The soft squeeze of her hand acted as a silent command, and Draco could hardly believe it when his body began to obey her.


	73. LXXIII: Pulse

_Nothing belongs to me. _

**LXXIII: Pulse**

Under different circumstances, Draco would have liked his current position – nestled into Ginny Weasley's bosom, but no, now was not the time to admire the girl's breasts. He listened tentatively for a heart beat.

Truthfully, Draco didn't know how to check for a pulse. Even if he had, his hands were shaking too violently to ensure accurate results.

So he listened for a heart beat instead. It was there, barely audible but there. Relief swelled in his chest like a balloon.

This whole kidnapping ploy was harder than it looked.

Draco wished he had just Apparated her to the Wiltshire manor – none of this trekking through the forest business. His problems though, were only just beginning.

He observed her anxiously now.

She groaned, opening her eyes. "Where am I?" she muttered, staring around the cave Draco had dragged her into. "And – who are you?" she added, at the sight of him.

Draco blinked. "I'm your husband." he said sarcastically.

"I have a husband?"

Draco looked at her strangely. The blank and somewhat expression on her face suggested a lack of recognition.

_Well_, it had been a _pretty_ big tree branch…and it _did_ manage to knock her unconscious…

"Yeah," he said slowly, watching as she sat up.

With a feeling of unease Draco reached out and felt the large bump on the top of her head.

Was it enough to bring her to this point? With her mind and memory so affected that she was ready to believe that they were married?

Draco sincerely hoped not.

Surely, this would complicate things.


	74. LXXIV: Illusion

_Nothing belongs to me. _

**LXXIV: Illusion**

This could not be happening. It was lying: for the first time ever, the Marauder's Map was lying. It _must _have been. There was just no way!

Harry held his lighted wand closer the aged parchment, reading and rereading the names labeling the dots he stared ferociously at.

It was - this couldn't be right. It must've been an illusion, a trick of the wand light.

Harry blinked. He was probably tired (Yeah, that was it!) and he wasn't seeing things properly. He hastily pulled off his glasses, placing them onto the bedside table, next to the map.

He hadn't bothered to wipe it. It probably wouldn't be too long before he checked it again.

Harry dozed off, his soft snores filling his side of the tent.

Next to him, in the darkness, hundreds of dots moved across the parchment mirroring the actions of their owners.

There was only one dot, however, that interested Harry Potter that night, and that dot belonged to one Ginny Weasley.

Her dot now resided in an unused classroom, joined by a second dot. It wouldn't seem that way initially: they were positioned so close together, the dots appeared as one.

No, Harry didn't believe it either, at first, but there was no mistaking the miniscule words identifying Draco Malfoy.


	75. LXXV: Pillow

_Nothing belongs to me. _

**LXXV: Pillow**

Harry could probably guess correctly just what Ginny was dreaming about.

After almost a week of listening to her moan the same name into her pillow each night, he decided it would probably be best if he didn't mention it to her.

He would just block it out the whole thing. Yeah…that's what he'd do.

And with this revelation, Harry went back to sleep.

But something kept nagging at the beck of his mind. _How_ could he possibly forget the fact that his girlfriend was moaning some other guy's name while she slept? _Especially_ if that guy was Draco Malfoy?


	76. LXXVI: Free

_Nothing belongs to me._

**LXXVI: Free**

"You'd kiss that Weasley girl for a thousand galleons, wouldn't you, Draco?"

The boy scoffed at Pansy's statement. "I wouldn't look at her even for a million galleons."

Pansy seemed pleased about his response, Blaise noted, silently watching the exchange, but he knew better than that.

He knew Draco would do it for free.


	77. LXXVII: Joy

_Nothing belongs to me._

**LXXVII: Joy**

Is this what joy was supposed to feel like? Like Blast Ended Skrewts were ravishing his innards?

He was supposed to feel joyful, right?

After all, it wasn't everyday you succeeded in breaking off your sister's engagement.

It had taken a lot of work on Ron's part, several months, and lots of Firewhiskey, but he had done it.

And now what? Where was the satisfaction guaranteed?

_There is none_, whispered the small voice in the back of his head.

Ron swore loudly, charging up the stairs two steps at the time.

Upon reaching the landing, Ron heard a different sound. His stomach churned as he realized it was sobbing: Ginny was crying.

Blimey, she hadn't cried since – since Fred.

And now, that was all she was doing now, crying, in her room.

Ron wanted to knock on the door, not wait for an answer, barge in, and hug her, tell her that everything would be okay.

But everything was not okay.

_You did this._

"And I'm going to fix this." he muttered, turning away from Ginny's door. "If it's the last thing I do!" Which, Ron mused, it probably would be. When Ginny found out what he had done, she was going to kill him.


	78. LXXVIII: Abandoned

_Nothing belongs to me. _

**LXXVIII: Abandoned**

The second Tory entered her apartment, she sensed something wrong. Though nothing appeared to be different, she could feel it – a disturbance. What kind of disturbance though, she didn't know, not until she entered the kitchen and found it sitting at her breakfast table.

Instinctively, Tory seized a knife from the counter; she wouldn't hesitate to use it, if needed.

"Who are you and how did you get into my home?"

The intruder only smiled chestershirely. She didn't look like a burglar, or a criminal, at that. She must've been about her age, seventeen or eighteen.

But Tory wasn't fooled that easily – or reassured.

"I said, 'Who are you?' What are you doing here? And what do you want?"

The girl's sapphirine eyes twinkled. "Relax, Taurus."

Her grip on the knife lessened. Tory had never told anyone her full name. "H-how do you know – no! Stay back!" She stumbled backwards, staring fearfully at the pretty girl sitting. "I'm warning you!" she screamed, brandishing the weapon with newfound vigor.

The knife was wrenched from he hands suddenly by an invisible force, and it fell with a clatter on the floor.

Tory gazed at the fallen knife and then at the trespasser. "W-why are you here?"

"To answer all your questions."

"Oh?" said Tory distractedly, reaching backwards for another kitchen utensil, her eyes never leaving the stranger.

"Yeah." The girl's grin broadened, and she continued, "Like why you could always do things like this…"

The knife on the floor quivered slightly and rose upwards, suspended in midair.

Tory blanched, the rolling pin slipping from her trembling hands. "How – ?"

"And then," interrupted the girl, "there's the subject of your murky past and…"

Tory's eyes flickered back onto the stranger.

"…your mother…"

"My mother abandoned me when I was a baby."

The girl threw her wavy brown hair back; her smile had faltered at last. "You seem quite sure." she whispered finally.

"Of course!" said Tory bitingly. "What other explanation could there be as to why I was found randomly on a doorstep?"

The airborne blade fell once more, and the girl once again smiled her mysterious smile. "Come with me, and I'll tell you."


	79. LXXIX: Tower

_Nothing belongs to me._

**LXXIX: Tower**

Ginny sighed, spinning around in her seat. "You're not making this any easier!"

Draco made no comment and only smirked, staring behind her, down at the Quidditch field.

"I just want to pitch you off the Astronomy Tower!" Ginny paused, blushing furiously at the thought of what she was about to say next. "And then…fly down and catch you before you reach the bottom."

She looked bravely up at Draco, screaming inwardly. "And it scares the shit out of me – " Seeing his blank face, she faltered. " – t-these feelings I feel."

Ginny faced the front again, bringing her knees to her chest. She listened hard for any response, closing her eyes when she heard none.

For the first time in a long time, Ginny felt like crying. What a fool she had been!

There was a noise a behind her, and she lifted her head, brushing long stands of red out of her eyes to see that Draco had clambered over a row of seats to join her.

He turned to her, smiling faintly. "I love you too."


	80. LXXX: Waiting

_Nothing belongs to me._

**LXXX: Waiting**

"Master," Tinky the house elf bowed respectfully, "a woman comes to see you, sir and I sends her to your study. She is waiting now, master."

Draco thanked the elf, wondering who it could possibly be.

Surely not Mother…The house elves knew better than to shunt her to his study. Astoria wouldn't be back until tomorrow…and there were wards to keep Pansy out.

"I'm sorry for any inconvenience." he called to the waiting visitor, shutting the office door behind him.

"That's quite all right."

Draco froze, his heart stopping. He turned around violently.

"Get out of my chair!" he snarled, glaring at the woman sitting behind his desk. "And out of my house!"

Ginny Weasley – well, he supposed she was still a Weasley – smiled at him sweetly. "No."

She looked the same as she had the day he last saw her, but, of course, now, she was wearing clothes.

"So – " he said, trying to get the image of a naked Ginny out of his mind. " – you disappear for five – "

" – Six."

" – six years and now you've come back."

She nodded, her smile never faltering.

"Did it _ever _occur to you that I might be happily married?"

Ginny's eyes narrowed. "Well, did it ever occur to you that maybe I'm _not_ here to beg you to take me back?"

That wiped the satisfied smirk off his face.

"Well, then – " he recovered, "please enlighten me, Ginevra, on _this_." Draco waved a hand at the desk she now occupied. " Go on!"

Ginny sighed, breaking her gaze. "I've decided to return – "

"Obviously."

" – for good, and I'm staying at my parents house with – " She lifted her eyes up. " – your son." Ginny smiled weakly. "Our son," she breathed.


	81. LXXXI: Blood

_Nothing belongs to me._

**LXXXI: Blood**

Her screams reverberated around the brightly lit room, tears leaking out of the corners of her eyes as pain ripped through her.

It was her grasp on his arm though that told him just how agonizing the pain was.

Never could he remember witnessing anything more horrible.

And he didn't realize there would be so much blood! Already, Draco felt a bit queasy, not to mention lightheaded.

Ginny sobbed, her clutch slackening.

Fresh screams filled the room, but this time, they belonged to someone else.

"Congratulations Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy, you now have a beautiful baby girl!"

The new mother smiled tiredly.

Next to her, Draco tried to express the happiness now swelling inside his chest.

But instead, the room spun as his legs failed him, and the sterile hospital floor rushed up gladly to meet him.


	82. LXXXII: Silence

_Nothing belongs to me._

**LXXXII: Silence**

These sessions were a waste of time.

John wasn't going to talk. He never did.

Dr. Lockey didn't know why they insisted on these three, one hour, sessions a week, every week.

An hour of silence wasn't going to solve anything.

John, as the nurses came to call him, had arrived at the hospital almost a year ago. Poor chap remembered nothing of who he was, where he came from – nothing. He could barely even take care of himself, stumbling into the hospital, dirty, starving, and wearing nothing but long tattered black robes.

The young man had baffled the doctors. Not even the most experienced could seem to find the source of his amnesia or why it was so extensive, hindering him from accomplishing the simplest of tasks. There was no head injury or signs of any kind of trauma…or anything.

He was completely healthy, had it not been for his mental state.

And after all these months, he still couldn't remember a thing about his life before. There were little clues as to _who_ he might be, well, except if you wanted to count the hideous tattoo on John's left forearm.

It featured a skull of some sort and a snake protruding obscenely from its mouth...? Dr. Lockey didn't like the looks of it. In his opinion, it was the mark of a street gang, if anything.

The hospital had sent numerous photos of the thing to various tattoo parlors and police stations in hopes they could identify it, but their attempts were in vain. No one claimed him.

Dr. Lockey sighed. He had learned long ago not to expect anything apart from John's "Hello." and "Goodbye."

You can only imagine the psychiatrist's surprise when John did speak.

"There's a girl."

"E-excuse me?"

John stared determinedly at the doctor. "A girl." he repeated. "I dream about her sometimes."

Dr. Lockey reached clumsily for his notepad, unable to shake off the shock that clutched at him. "And does this girl – is she only a figure in your dreams?"

"No," John murmured finally, with a faraway look. "She's certainly real."


	83. LXXXIII: Noise

_Nothing belongs to me._

**LXXXIII: Noise**

"Make any noise and I'll kill you." Draco growled, pressing the blade of the knife into her neck.

He could feel her panicked breath, warm on the hand clamped firmly over her mouth.

He pulled her body closer to his own, the Weasley girl shuddering as he did so.

They stood unmoving for several seconds and then, Draco felt something warmer (and wetter) than her breath upon his palm: it was her tongue.

He didn't lessen his grip; Draco had been expecting this. Well not _this_, but biting or something…not this.

Draco was appalled by the goose bumps that erupted on his neck. He was even more horrified by the torrent of thoughts that followed.

Thoughts of tongue running over things – other than his palm.


	84. LXXXIV: Standing Still

_Nothing belongs to me._

**LXXXIV: Standing Still**

She had forgotten how tall Draco was - taller than her - and she was forced to accept this now as he towered over her.

Ginny could feel his breath on her eyelids as well as his rapid heart rate under her fingers.

Her eyes widened, and all words failed her as their eyes met. She swallowed, for her mouth was strangely dry.

He swayed dangerously, and she suddenly remembered his fragile state. He would have toppled over if it hadn't been for her hands which flew to his waist, steadying him.

She smiled weakly, gazing again bravely into his stormy grey eyes.

Ginny wondered if he too felt the swooping sensation in his stomach, like she did.

It would probably explain why he had placed a hand on her cheek, and why he was now leaning in closer – closer.

And why she wasn't doing anything to stop him.


	85. LXXXV: Treasure

_Nothing belongs to me._

**LXXXV: Treasure**

Ginny never thought she would see the day when there would be a down side to her job as a Curse Breaker.

It came, of course, the day, just a year after she had taken the internship at Gringotts, upon Bill's suggestion.

In that year, Ginny had fallen in love with Egypt, and _all_ its majesty – her sprawling deserts, vast seas of sand as far as the eye could see; her mysterious past, countless secrets yet to be told; and her charming inhabitants, with their fascinating culture. Her favorite thing of all, though, had to be the Egyptian sunset.

Oh, how she loved the way the sun slowly sank, shining like a jewel of some sort, staining the sands in its bloodlike glow! And then, when night fell, the stars would come out by the millions, twinkling merrily together.

Then, of course there was the job. Adventure, treasure, travel – and the thrill of it all! It was no wonder Bill had advised it. He knew her well.

Ginny didn't think there could be anything in the world that could spoil her time her happiness her.

She was horribly wrong.

That very thing she couldn't think of arrived on the before mentioned day, merely a year after she had.

"Didja hear 'bout the new Curse Breaker, Gin?" asked Tobias, her good looking Australian colleague.

"New Curse Breaker?" Ginny asked blankly, holding a hand over her eyes.

"I'm guessing you haven't then."

"No, I haven't."

"They should be arriving any time now."

Ginny scanned the endless ocean of sand, half expecting the man (or woman) to come traipsing up.

To her immense shock, he (or she) was. Ginny and Tobias dropped their work to watch two figures grow larger as they made their way to the canopy.

One figure, Ginny saw, was familiar – her superior Ashtabula. The second figure was also familiar, too familiar.

It wasn't until they were ten feet away when Ginny permitted herself to react; what she was seeing was indeed real, and not a mirage as she'd hoped.

Tobias looked at her curiously when she groaned loudly.

"You know him Ginny?"

"Of course!" interjected the new Curse breaker, before she could answer.

"Tobias, Ginny," smiled Ashtabula, wiping the sweat from his brow, "may I introduce our newest Curse Breaker, Draco Malfoy?"


	86. LXXXVI: Mother Nature

_Nothing belongs to me._

**LXXXVI: Mother Nature**

Draco could safely say that he had seen the many sides of Ginny Weasley – Happy Ginny, Angry Ginny, Fiery Ginny, Icy Ginny, Brave Ginny, Scared Ginny. But not one of these Ginnys unnerved him as much as the bedraggled, pathetic Ginny standing on his doorstep.

She had come through the violent downpour, he imagined. It would explain why her clothes clung to her like a second skin and why her vibrant hair was plastered to her head, giving her the overall appearance of a drowned person.

Personally, Draco preferred Naked Ginny.

But he wasted no time in inviting her wordlessly into his warm home and allowing her to drip onto his pricy Persian carpets.

But Draco immediately regretted this, and with a feeling of unease, he asked her, "Why are you here?"

She gazed up at him with tormented eyes.

"You shouldn't even be here, Ginny." he said coldly, and he was dismayed to see her falter under his stare.

This weak and broken Ginny was alien to him. What happened to the strong, stubborn woman he (as much as he hated to admit it) had come to admire?

But Draco already knew the answer to this.

"Malfoys and Weasleys were never meant to get along, let alone…fall in love." He glanced away. "It's mother nature." he whispered.

"It never stopped you before." she said quietly. "What's stopping you now?"

Draco swallowed the lump that formed in his throat. "Astoria."


	87. LXXXVII: Obsession

_Nothing belongs to me._

**LXXXVII: Obsession**

I'm sorry. Two words, seven letters, one apostrophe. It was these two words, seven letters, and one apostrophe that haunted her days and nights for the last week.

True, yes, there was nothing remotely astonishing about these words. It was the fact that Draco Malfoy had said them…to her… Draco Malfoy apologizing to Ginny Weasley…

No one else seemed to understand (or care about) the reason for this.

But Ginny did. Perfectly.

It was _obviously_ some new level of the never ending game played by their families: mind screwing.

Well, one point for Malfoy, because it was working.

Yeah, it was safe to say that Ginny Weasley was being mind screwed. You could even say that she was obsessed with deciphering the hidden meaning in his seemingly innocent words – and Malfoy himself.

All her conversations with Dean that week centered on the subject of Malfoy and during mealtimes, she wouldn't hesitate to sneak a peek at the Slytherin table. In class, her mind would wander dangerously and often, when she was supposed to be doing homework or studying for O.W.L.S., Ginny would find herself listing every possible thing Malfoy could have meant by his apology.

It wasn't until she was considering asking her brother for his opinion on Draco's – Malfoy's, Malfoy's eyes that Ginny realized just how bad this _thing_ had become.

So bad…she got butterflies in her stomach just thinking of the smirking Slytherin…

Something drastic would be needed to be done.


	88. LXXXVIII: Magic

_Nothing belongs to me._

**LXXXVIII: Magic**

"How did he do it?" Ron whispered, his question hanging awkwardly and unanswered in the warm night air.

"Magic."

He opened his eyes, staring up at Luna in alarm.

"No, Ronald." she said quietly, having seen the look on his face. She settled down into the grass next to him. "Not magic magic." Luna smiled, stretching out on her back, her long dirty blonde hair fanned out beneath her. "_Magic _magic."

"I don't understand." Ron said slowly.

"You're not supposed to." Luna looked up toward the sky, and for a moment Ron could see the stars reflected in her eyes. "What happens, happens, Ron." She yawned, her eyes fluttering closed. "And sometimes it's for the best."

They lay in silence for a few minutes; Ron could hear distinct sounds of celebration, back at the house, but he had no inclination to rejoin it.

He'd rather much stay here.

"The Nargles, they're everywhere." Luna murmured sleepily. In the darkness, her hand skimmed through the dewy grass, finding Ron's.

He glanced at their intertwined hands.

Make that two things in the world he didn't understand: how his sister ever fell in love with Draco Malfoy and Luna Lovegood.


	89. LXXXIX: Multitasking

_Nothing belongs to me._

**LXXXIX: Multitasking**

She couldn't remember her own wedding being as stressful, but then again, her mother had planned the whole thing. All she ever had to do was nod or shake her head.

Now, Ginny did just that, and more. There were bouquets and arrangements, menus and seating charts.

And Rose wasn't even her daughter!

But her niece would need all the help she could get if she wanted this wedding today.

It was the least she could do: Hermione and Rose were handling the dress malfunctions, the fiancé – well, Ginny wasn't sure where _he_ was – and Ron was absolutely no help.

Ronald couldn't possibly manage overseeing the flower arrangements at the ceremony site and helping Lily into her bridesmaid gown, all while locating James and Albus at the same time.

But come to think of it, neither could she: Lily's hair was not exactly the elegant twist they had intended it to be, and the boys were nowhere to be found.

"I'm quite glad Father isn't alive to see this."

Ginny took no notice as her wand slipped from her fingers and plummeted into the grass.

How long had it been since she had last heard that voice – the same voice that still haunted her dreams, day and night?

She willed herself not to look.

"Imagine! A Malfoy marrying a Weasley."

Yes, she could imagine it clearly, perhaps too clearly. A Malfoy marrying a Weasley – a different Malfoy and a different Weasley.

And before she could stop herself, Ginny was turning around to face him.

"It wasn't supposed to happen like this."


	90. XC: Relaxation

_Nothing belongs to me. _

**XC: Relaxation**

_"He knows, Hermione. _He knows._" She smoothed her robes nervously, watching for a response._

_"That's impossible!"_

_"Trust me, Hermione. I can see the way he looks at me." she whispered. "He knows it was me."_

_"Do you hear yourself Ginny? You need to _relax_. Everything's going to be fine."_

Ginny laughed out loud now, remembering her friend's words of reassurance.

"Everything is going to be fine?" she hissed to herself. "I need to _relax_?"

Ginny didn't know how she could manage it now that the hospital was under quarantine. Now that no one was to leave, or even think about attempting it. And now that she was trapped in the potions supply closet with the last person she even wanted to think of right now.

"Of course!" Ginny said loudly, her exclamation echoing around the cramped closet.

Of course! Only the Fates would choose to stick none other than Draco Malfoy in a closet with her for an undetermined period of time.

It was official: Healer Ginny Weasley hated Mondays.


	91. XCI: In The Eye Of The Storm

_Nothing belongs to me. _

**XCI: In The Eye Of The Storm**

There was no other sound in the dark flat apart from the clock's incessant ticking and the slow breathing of the two people sitting on the sofa.

And like almost every other near silence that had come before, it was broken when someone spoke.

"So, how are things?" Hermione looked down at her knees and blinked, unable to see them. "Between you and Ginny?"

"Things are good." Harry sighed. "For now."


	92. XCII: In The Moment

_Nothing belongs to me._

**XCII: In The Moment**

Draco Malfoy had long given up hope that he would ever reach tomorrow. So he wasn't even remotely surprised when he woke up again on April 17th.

Draco wondered what it was he would do this time.

He was running out of ideas for suicide, so no, no death today. Besides, Madam Pomfrey almost always saved him in time, and he never got that feeling of exhilaration when he threw himself off the Astronomy tower anymore.

Research was never any fun – or any help for that matter. There was no answer to this thing. Draco had even swallowed his pride and gone to Dumbledore for help once, but even the greatest wizard alive couldn't explain why he woke up to find everyday was April 17th.

Similarly, working on the cabinet was a total waste of day: any progress made would be erased the following April 17th.

So recklessness it was. Yeah, that was always fun!

"But what to do?" he wondered aloud as he dressed.

Draco fondly remembered the one morning he ran naked around the castle.

It had taken over half of the teaching staff to bring him down in the end, but it was worth the humiliation: Draco would never forget the look on Minerva McGonagall's face.

"Make it up as I go along?" he suggested to his reflection in the mirror he kept handy at his bedside.

"Yeah," he decided, "I'll do that."

Already, Draco felt so reckless, that he didn't even bother to fix his hair. (The rugged look was sexier anyway.)

He swaggered out of his dorm and out of the Slytherin common room, fancying some breakfast.

On the way, Draco bumped into someone in the entrance hall.

"Watch it, Malfoy!"

Draco watched amusedly as the youngest Weasley struggled to her feet, and a stroke of inspiration came to him.

His second reckless, in the moment act now stood before him.


	93. XCIII: Innocent

_Nothing belongs to me. _

**XCIII: Innocent**

She had no idea where she was going. The farther from her boyfriend, the better.

Screw Dean. And screw dinner! She didn't need it. Not at all. And she certainly didn't need _him_ twenty five hours a day, eight days a week.

Ginny snarled, frightening the second year that had been walking past.

What was happening to her? To them? Ginny didn't need to ask though; she knew perfectly well _what_, and the very thought of it made her feel horrible.

She detoured into the nearest bathroom, rushing toward the sinks so she could splash some water on her face.

During this, Ginny remained completely oblivious to her surroundings. It wasn't until Ginny had finished fixing her hair when she noticed something in the mirror, something she hadn't seen coming in.

Ginny whipped around violently, her fears confirmed as she stared at the row of urinals on the wall.

In her haste, Ginny had failed to realize she had entered the boys' bathroom.

_It was an innocent mistake!_ Ginny reassured herself, still gazing at the strange fixtures in front of her. _Anyone could have done it!_ But this thought didn't make her feel any less of a fool.

Still, Ginny was grateful no one was around to witness this blunder.

As she turned to leave though, Ginny knew at one that she was about to pay dearly for this _innocent_ mistake – the sound of footsteps grew louder as someone approached.

Ginny had just managed to slip into the nearest stall and close its door when someone entered.

"Hello?" called the last voice she wanted to hear _here_. "Anyone?"

Draco Malfoy's voice sounded strange without its usual sneer.

"You're back!" cried a second voice, this one also familiar.

Ginny let out an involuntary gasp. Moaning Myrtle?

She edged backwards in the stall, stepping up onto the toilet seat. Ginny tried not to breathe, listening hard, for the unlikely pair had just begun to talk.


	94. XCIV: Trouble Lurking

_Nothing belongs to me._

**XCIV: Trouble Lurking**

She felt kind of bad hiding in bathroom stalls and listening as unsuspecting Slytherins poured out their souls to moody, insecure ghosts – like the way she was again now.

This was exactly the sort of insensitive thing Ron would do. At least Ginny had the sense (and the tact) to keep everything she heard and saw to herself.

It was wrong, Ginny knew it, but she couldn't help it.

There was something strange and exciting about sitting on a toilet seat and eavesdropping while Draco Malfoy talked about his feelings.

Ginny silenced her thoughts for he spoke again.

"I feel so alone this year." He paused. "I mean, I've always been alone…I have friends, but we don't talk, and they don't understand what I'm going through. No one understands me…except maybe you and Mother.

"Father never understood me. He never had the time to get to; he never made time. Off somewhere, doing something important. To tell you the truth, I'm quite glad he's in jail.

"Did he abuse you?" asked Myrtle in a hushed voice.

"Not physically, verbally and emotionally, yes – when, when I was younger." Malfoy quickly added.

"It's no surprise I'm closer to my mother. I might even go as far as to say that I love her more. She is a remarkable woman. Mother is strong, sweet, caring, intelligent, and independent."

Inside the stall, Ginny smiled. A week or two before she would have never have believed that Draco Malfoy was capable of being human and not the spawn of Satan as everyone believed.

Her heart was pounding in her chest, and Ginny waited for him to speak again, hanging on the edge of her seat. Literally.

Ginny slipped sideways off the toilet, hitting her head against the stall.

"Ow." she murmured, one hand flying to the bump sure to form.

The thought of any head injury she may or may not have obtained was ripped from her mind when the stall door opened to reveal the equally stunned Slytherin.

"Well," he said finally after an intense staring session, "it seems someone is having trouble lurking."

* * *

AN/: Yes, I know…I'm quite ashamed of this last line, but in my defense when I wrote it, I didn't know how to use the phrase 'trouble lurking' and in my twisted mind, I thought it was similar to the phrase 'trouble sleeping'. But looking back at it now, two years later, it's glaringly obvious. _Trouble lurking_, as in the sense of trouble lurking around the corner, or however you'll have it.


	95. XCV: Working Together

_Nothing belongs to me._

**XCV: Working Together**

Poppy Pomfrey thought she had seen everything, but even after all these years, the students at Hogwarts still managed to surprise her.

Like they would again today.

"What in Merlin's name is going on in here?" she demanded, staring around at the crowd that had gathered in the hospital wing. Crowds were never a good sign.

"Madame Pomfrey!" Mr. Potter pushed to the front, out of breath. "There was a due – accident, an accident."

He needn't say anymore.

"Where is he?" Poppy inquired, taking note of Potter's unaltered appearance.

"_They_…" he corrected, nervously pointing to the curtain drawn around one of the beds.

"Oh dear…"

It seemed that Mr. Malfoy and Miss Weasley were joined together – joined, as in the back of her skirt was attached to the front of his trousers.

At first, Poppy had thought the worst. She was relieved to find that their clothes were still on. She supposed their _condition_ was cause either by a permanent sticking charm or the effect of a combination of spells. For either, there was a simple solution, and Poppy was about to try one when there was a shout behind her.

"Poppy, no!"

She had never seen Minerva look so angry.

"Off to class, everyone, NOW! Everyone, except you three –"

Poppy had a pretty good idea of which three.

"But Professor!"

"Alright Mr. Thomas, you too."

Minerva ripped open the curtains, nostrils flaring, eyes narrowing upon seeing the results of the duel/accident. "Don't Poppy!" she said sharply.

"Don't what?"

"Don't fix them."

"_What?_" screamed everyone who wasn't Minerva McGonagall.

"This, this _thing_ was the result of your duel." At this, Minerva threw Misters Potter, Weasley, and Malfoy the same dirty look before continuing. "As punishment these two will spend the next working together to cope with this, _ah_, condition. I'll be placing extra enchantments to ensure you don't get out."

"But can't you just give us detentions?" asked Mr. Potter desperately.

"You all _have_ to remember not to be so quick to use your wands within the walls of this castle."

"But –"

"I'm sure _this_ will remind you of this fact – more effectively than any detention."

Minerva gave them all a stern look before finally turning back to Poppy, who stood motionless.

"I know how much you want to Poppy, but I beg of you. Don't.

"This madness has gone on _far_ too long. Six years! _Six_ years!"


	96. XCVI: World

_Nothing belongs to me._

**XCVI: World**

"I – I don't want to have to live in a world without you." she whispered, unable to keep the tears from falling from her eyes.

"Maybe you won't have to." he replied softly, kissing her tenderly, and at the same time, pressing something into her fingers.

It wasn't until after Draco had slipped away to rejoin the battle when Ginny checked her hand.

A small vial containing a clear liquid lay there.


	97. XCVII: Marriage

_Nothing belongs to me. _

**XCVII: Marriage**

Although she was in the shower, Ginny could hear the Intruder Charm as it went off. She heaved an exasperated sigh, turning off the water.

"_When will he learn?"_

It was rude to Apparate directly into someone's home.

"I'll be right out!" Ginny called as she pulled on her bathrobe and snatched her wand up from the sink, wondering what Draco wanted now.

"Hello – " She faltered, surprised by the crowd of people standing in her living room.

"Hello, Gin."

She looked nervously from Ron to the rest of her brothers and her parents, Harry, and Hermione; each sported the same look of angry disbelief.

She sank into an armchair, swallowing the lump that formed in her throat. "So what brings you all here?" she asked apprehensively when their expressions didn't waver.

Ron opened his mouth to retort, but their father silenced his with a hand.

"Just _when_, Ginny, did you intend to tell us about _this_?" Her father threw something down on the coffee table.

Ginny felt the color leave her face as she stared down at the day's Daily Prophet. In large print the headline flashed: _Draco Malfoy Weds Ginny Weasley._

So much for keeping it a secret.


	98. XCVIII: Fighting Ghosts

_Nothing belongs to me._

**XCVIII: Fighting Ghosts**

She could feel his intense gaze upon her, as she could feel the numbing clutch of guilt creep into her heart.

"He's not here, remember?"

For a moment, she wondered if Draco had read her mind; the little voice in her head had been saying just the same.

And it was perfectly true: he wasn't here, and he hadn't been here for months – hadn't been hers for months.

But why didn't it feel that way?

"_Will you be my girlfriend?"_

_She smiled, staring up into those beautiful emerald eyes, and pressed her lips against his._

"_Does that answer your question?"_

"You do remember that he broke up with you, don't you?"

"_It's for some stupid, noble reason, isn't it?"_

_But she needn't ask: the look on his face was enough, and for the first time in years, she felt like crying._

"You say you want this."

Ginny refused to meet his eyes, staring determinedly over his shoulder. She tried desperately not to shiver when he traced her jaw with a long finger.

"But I can feel the hesitation in your lips when you kiss me."

"_I've never felt this way about anyone before."_

"I can't stand it – I want you…"

"_I just wish this could last forever." he murmured quietly, closing his eyes._

_Ginny gazed fondly at her sleeping boyfriend and stretched out on her back, resting her head in his lap. From this position she could see the leaves of the beech tree they were laying beneath._

"_Me too."_

Tears stung the corners of her eyes as he forced her to look into his. She could see the pain hidden behind his stormy grey stare.

"I need you for my own," he said fiercely, "but how can we together if you're too busy fighting ghosts?"

"_Why didn't we do this sooner?" he asked, grinning._

_She shut her Transfiguration book and took his hand in her own._

"_I don't know."_

That was all Harry was to her anymore…the phantom of something perhaps lost forever.

It was pointless fighting ghosts; they both knew it now.


	99. XCIX: The Time of My Life

_Nothing belongs to me. _

**XCIX: The Time of My Life**

A shower of sparks illuminated the tops of the dark trees for only a few seconds before disappearing into the night.

"Okay, I've just sent up the sparks. They'll be coming any moment now. And if not…I'll send them up again soon." Ginny bit her lip, staring at the figure sprawled across the forest floor. "How are you holding up?"

Malfoy groaned, sitting up with extreme difficulty, his face shining pale like the moon hanging in the sky above them.

"Everything's marvelous." he said sarcastically. "In fact, I'm having the time of my life."

Ginny rolled her eyes, hoping Hagrid would hurry up and get here already. But before then, she would have to deal with this bloody carping mess.

_But you know…this is partly your fault_, her conscience reminded her.

Ginny privately agreed as she examined the extent of Malfoy's injuries.

His leg was horribly mangled, twisted at an unnatural angle, and there were countless cuts and bruises across his arms and face.

It was a nasty sight, but Ginny couldn't help but admire her handiwork.

"I don't know much about mending bones, I'm afraid," she started, kneeling down next to him, "but I can fix your face."

"Don't touch me!" snarled Malfoy, but Ginny ignored him, brushing a strand of silvery blond away from his blackened eye.

He winced, gasping in pain.

"Oh, don't be such a Hufflepuff!" Ginny snapped, a little uncomfortable with their close proximity.

She made the mistake of looking into his eyes and found herself mesmerized by their resemblance to clouds on a rainy day.

She could feel his body tense next to her, and for a moment, both teenagers forgot how to breathe as their eyes met. Ginny thought she saw Malfoy lean in a fraction of an inch for–for–surely, not a _kiss_!

But Ginny never did get to find out just what it was that she was or was not expecting because at that moment, a loud crash in the trees behind them announced Hagrid's arrival.

The clearing was basked in light as the giant lumbered into sight, a lantern held aloft in one huge hand. Next to him, a significantly smaller figure appeared.

"Harry!" Ginny sprung away from Malfoy at once, launching herself into her boyfriend's arms.


End file.
